


Pastel Lilies

by LuciferneverLies, Mayte



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferneverLies/pseuds/LuciferneverLies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayte/pseuds/Mayte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But I can't hear the notes, Gaius, and I’m tired of trying to,” and it’s almost like Naga above felt her sadness, allowing for rain to pour out from the clouds.</p><p>She remembers being held by Gaius, and she knows she cried to her heart’s content in front of that restaurant. </p><p>And she thinks of red hair and pale cheeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Woo, it's been a long time since I've written anything. Please bare with me, and I hope you enjoy this.

_Prelude_

 

   She remembers high school. She remembers her classroom, and the way the floor creaked if you ran through the hallways. The way dust blanketed the boards of empty classrooms, and the way the trees bloomed in spring.

   She remembers the exact number of her locker, the combination, and the metallic smell. And she remembers the laughs of her friends, the warmth they radiated, them. 

And she remembers _her_.

   But Sumia has to stop herself from thinking too much of red hair and pale cheeks. Her fingers continue to type up an essay due weeks from now. It was for her English class, and the topic was lost to her, but she was sure she was on the right track somehow.

   Hours ticked by and she stayed on the same paragraph. Sighing, she decided she would just work on it tomorrow. A familiar ringtone echoed from her room, and she jumped in surprise.

   Though she wouldn't say her room was messy, trying to find the source of the noise had been difficult. But soon she found it hidden beneath music books, and she’s hit with a temporary pain.

 “Gaius?”

_“Sumia, uh, I was just wondering if you were, uh, free tonight?”_

   She paused mid step, checking the clock on the wall. 7 pm. There was still enough time in the day.

 “I am. What do you have in mind?”

 _“I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat with me. I’m sorry if this is out of the blue, but it’s been weeks since-”_   Sumia felt his hesitation, _“we’ve talked.”_  

   They talked for another twenty minutes deciding the place and time. But she was sure Gaius felt as though he was talking to himself. She hung up in a rush, making some excuse of needing enough time to do her hair.

   Guilt overwhelmed her. They hadn't talked in weeks, because she hadn't been responding to anyone’s anything. Her inbox was full of unread messages and unanswered calls; she knows her absence worried them.

   Sure, she attended classes, but she wasn't really there, or at least that’s how Cherche had described it (“You go somewhere else, like you’re visiting some place only you know,”). But even then she didn't share any of her college classes with her friends. They only saw each other in passing really; Sumia could avoid their gaze and questions.

   But she was sure that she could indulge herself with this evening.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, uh, um, how have you been?” Gaius set the menu down, already knowing what to order.

   She glanced at him from behind the menu, eyes still searching for a good dish, “I've been good.”

   She smiled to herself when he nodded; Gaius was being awkward with her. He had probably been forced to do this by the rest of their friends. Knowing him, he was the one telling everyone else she just needed time. She appreciated that of him; he didn't pry often.

“If I didn't know any better I would think this was a date and you had a crush on me. Why are you so nervous?” Sumia teased lightly.

Gaius blushed slightly, “Gross, and I’m not nervous.”

“Are you sure, you’re doing that nodding thing,” Gaius rose his eyebrows at her.

   The waiter came around and took their order, Sumia just ordering what the other was having. Gaius studied her, eyebrows furrowing in thought. And all she could do was allow him time.

“Sumia, we’re just worried.”

   There it is. Sumia patted herself on the back for guessing the intentions of this dinner correctly. It didn't surprise her, not really, she was preparing herself for this conversation for some time now.

“Ever since that-” Gaius fumbled with his words, “performance, you've been MIA.”

   Gulping down whatever anxiety he had prior to starting this off, he continued, “I know I’m no fancy piano player like you, but one bad performance is not the end or anything.”

 

* * *

 

 

   It had been the finals of the International Chopin Piano competition; every seat at the performance hall had been filled. All of her friends had attended, they had all wished her luck and given her tight hugs to ease her nerves.

   On the set list she was number 24 to perform. She watched every performance, allowing for the music to give her some comfort. By the 20th performance, she had already changed clothes and could be found fiddling with the fabric of her satin dress.

_“Sumia Beaulieu,”_

   From the stage she had been able to make out Cherche trying to wake up Gaius; he always claimed that she was the only one that wasn't boring. She had also seen Maribelle and Lon’qu watching her intently, smiles gracing their faces,

   She remembers how much she had to adjust the bench, and she remembers the number of deep breaths she took before playing.

   Étude Op. 25, No. 11, Winter Wind, had been her piece. Lon’qu commented often on how lonely her notes sounded whenever he had heard her practice it.

   Sumia consumed herself into the piece, allowing for the notes to leave her. The intro itself had been enough to edge everyone in their seats. The arpeggios freely played, and there were no mistakes.

   Until suddenly, Sumia felt herself submerged in numbness. The notes weren’t reaching her ears, but she felt her fingers press down on the keys. She couldn't hear what she was playing, she couldn't hear. There was a distortion and she was starting to feel desperate, her fingers slamming harder on the keys, trying to get some reaction out of the music.

  

She couldn’t hear.

 

   She stopped, the tears that had welled up flowed freely, as she heard the whispers around her (“Did she forget how to play?” “I guess even geniuses make mistakes.” “That was terrible.” “What’s wrong with her?”)

   She was disqualified, she knew, she had stopped in the middle of the piece. But she couldn't continue, the numbness had still been there.

   Maribelle looked at her with worried eyes, and she pushed Lon’qu to stand up. Sumia knew they were going to be there waiting for her backstage, no matter how quickly she left the stage.

   After bowing, she quickly exited the staged. Once she found a safe haven in a tucked away waiting room for the performers, she let sobs ring out of her body.

   Echoes of her friends shouting her name could be heard, and once found she allowed herself to be embraced by Cherche and Maribelle. Lon’qu stood gruffly at her side, and Gaius was ready to get her anything she needed.

But Sumia was sure, she had lost what she needed. 

 

* * *

 

  

“Sumia, are you there?”

Gaius flicked her forehead, hoping to get some reaction. The faraway look in her eyes and the stillness of her figure made all of this seem surreal.

“I can’t hear the notes anymore.”

   And with that Sumia abruptly made her leave, dropping off money to cover her share of the bill. Gaius quickly stood up calling over the waiter, apologizing for needing to leave.

   She had only been a foot out the door, when Gaius caught up to her. And she could feel herself get tense underneath his zealous stare.

“What do you mean?”

   Sighing, she mused her explanation. This she hadn't planned for, she didn't know how to explain it to anyone else. She tried with her mother, but that had only ended with her mother prompting her to continue practicing it.

“I can start off a piece fine, but then...I just can’t hear what I’m playing anymore. I can feel the weight of the keys and I can feel my fingers pressing down on them, but I just can’t hear.”

   And she had tried practicing, even playing at a local cafe, but no it was all the same. She would reach maybe the 14th measure and then, no longer could she hear. Panic would rush through with her, and she was hit with that familiar pang of hurt.

   So she stopped playing, she stopped practicing, and she dropped out of all of her competitions. Her piano was left to collect dust, all the sheet music she owned laid resting on it. She tried throwing it all away, but after realizing that only left her with emptiness more than anything, she let it stay. But piano room was rarely visited, it stayed locked, and the plants within it had long since withered.

“But I cannot hear the notes, Gaius, and I’m tired of trying to,” and it’s almost like Naga above felt her sadness, allowing for rain to pour out from the clouds.

   She remembers being held by Gaius, and she knows she cried to her heart’s content in front of that restaurant.

 

 

 

 

And still she thinks of red hair and pale cheeks.


	2. Gymnopédie No.1

  Sumia smiled at the small boy who was stumbling with adjusting his stool. His mother looked torn. She seem indecisive between helping him or letting him continue to tinker with it. Her own boss was watching them with his own amused eyes.

  They had come in to get a new piano; the mother had commented that their other one was getting too old to keep up with her son’s practices. It was his birthday after all, this being the only thing he had asked for. He had even looked into pianos with his mother's help, she proudly mentioned. 

Though shy at first, soon the boy found himself pressing each key. Sumia suggested him to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to really try out the piano. Hesitantly he gently pressed the first note, only picking up pace when he gained more confidence. 

However rough was his playing, it was pleasant to hear how it filled the small music shop. Her right hand mimicked the notes, humming slightly to herself.

Smiling to herself, she remembered learning as a kid. Her father had taught her. He played with her up until the day he passed away from a disease she still doesn’t quite understand. But she shouldn't think too much about that, after all the boy was now looking at her expectantly.

“Um, I’m sorry, I didn't hear you,” she spoke with subtle remorse.

“I asked if you could play with me,” he mumbled.

It was then that her boss left his perch behind the counter, asking Sumia if she could set up the new violins that recently came in. He knew playing was still, though an old issue, sensitive. The boy's eyes followed her as she walked away from them, whispering to his mother if he had said something wrong.

Sometimes she forgets it’s been four years since she last played. Four years since that performance. Four years since Gaius held her in front of that restaurant (it closed two years ago, but at least a flower shop took its place).

All four of them didn’t push her and understood (or tried their best to at least) what she was going through. They offered her support through whatever they could. She was thankful for them, honestly she didn’t dare think of where she would be if it hadn’t been for them.

Cherche and Lon’qu had been the ones to help her move, after they all had graduated, to somewhere closer to this new job of hers. Maribelle had driven her to all her internships and then later job interviews (she ended up taking this modest one in the end). And Gaius, well he ended up keeping her company whenever the others were busy. He helped with cleaning and cooking during his visits when he could.

It seemed that her boss had filled the back room to the brim with violins. It smelled of dust and nostalgia of days when she would hide in here often.

It was inevitable that people would recognize her. After all she had played in competitions across the country even in her younger years. It was inevitable that people would ask her what had happened. That they would ask about that performance, would ask her to play.

And such questions would often prompt her boss to divert attention away from her allowing her for an escape to this room.

But now, people tended to ask less, most forgetting what had happened to her. They took her excuses and let the issue rest. Some lamented and prompted her to play again. But more just bid her a good day on their way out.

Violins are heavy, she soon found out. By the time she managed to carry one out the boy and his mother had already left. Her boss had mentioned something about them coming by tomorrow to pick up their chosen piano.

“Do you think that friend of yours would mind helping out?”

“Gaius? I’m sure he’d love to help, Mr. Amano,” she smiled softly at the much older man.

He proceeded to tell her to make sure the violins were facing the window.

“The sunlight would do them good."

And soon hours past, her boss asking to close up shop for him. And she agrees, not minding having to stay another hour or two tidying up the shop.

There was one violin that caught her eye with its familiarity, Mr. Amano had commented on its beauty. She had agreed, smiling as she traced the contours of its wooden frame. But now, the more she looked at it the more it reminded her of soft hands and wing-shaped hair pieces.

Losing herself in her thoughts, Sumia misses the sound of someone entering the shop. Sumia feels chubby hands touching her hair, and she stiffens until she hears a familiar giggle. She relaxes and turns around to find Maribelle staring at her, holding a still teething Brady.

“Maribelle, it’s good to see you,” Sumia allowed for Brady to continue his pulling and grabbing, “but why are you here?”

Sighing to herself, Maribelle glared at the other woman, “I should have known that you would forget.”

 

 

-

 

 

“I’m sorry I’m late everyone,”

She had already apologized profusely to Maribelle the entire ride to the other’s home. She even went as far as promising to take care of Brady for the weekend, (“You and Lissa need some time alone, don’t you?” “And Owain?” “Well him too!” “Don’t use my kids against me.”)

“I know that Mari already gave you an earful, so don’t worry about it. What counts is that you’re here now,” Sumia was grateful for Lissa at times like these.

Her seat had been between Gaius and Lon’qu, and she just knew dinner would be eventful with Gaius’ constant jabs at everyone else. The others reactions often led for great retellings for work, with Mr. Amano’s laughter encouraging her to do that often.

“My question is how do you forget your own birthday dinner,” Gaius smirked.

“Be happy that I didn’t forget yours,” Lon’qu gave a small laugh to that, widening Sumia’s already cheeky smile.

Maribelle had been the one to prepare the dinner. Lissa had been busy with a fussy Owain to do so. Owain was currently undergoing his terrible threes (Threenager was it?), and so he took to being stubborn and difficult on bad days. And unfortunately today was a bad day.

But having company over seemed have to put Owain in a good mood and distracted him from any possible tantrums. It warmed her heart seeing Owain excitedly talk about his comics. Though she didn't always know all the names of the caped heros, she tried her best to follow their conversations. 

“I’m sure she just had a lot on her mind today,” Cherche began, “I forget things whenever I’m busy.”

And with that dinner began, all of Sumia’s favorite foods had been set on the table. Olivia, Cherche’s girlfriend, had arrived late. She had been the one to pick up the dessert (and the cake, she could tell from the hushed whispers exchanged between the couple).

 

They talked about everything.

 

Lissa recounted Owain’s adventures in daycare, (“He bit someone because they said they hated Batman” “I would too!” “Gaius, I swear to Naga, if you encourage him anymore, I’m going to castrate you”). Gaius lamented of having to spend his time painting the walls of his (not open yet) bakery.

Lon'qu had managed to distract everyone by asking Olivia about her dance classes.

“It’s my senior year, so for one of my classes I’m going to be in charge of one of the younger classes,” she finished shyly.

“So like high schoolers?” Sumia turns to see Olivia shaking her head at Lissa’s question.

“No, it’s a toddler class. I would probably up to my ears with stress if I had the high schoolers, I wouldn’t know how to deal with them.”

They all laughed and agreed with her. Sumia remembers how much of a handful she had been. Her mother still complained about it, and well her father, she was sure would be doing the same.

Owain excitedly popped his head up, “Dancing?! I like dancing, Momma! I want to dance in auntie’s class!”

She wondered if she was the only one that caught Olivia’s blush at the word “auntie”. Cherche and the girl had only just started dating a few months ago, but Olivia had already integrated herself into so many of their outings. And well that came with no surprise really, Sumia herself was smitten silly by the bashful girl (but not in that way either).

“Are you sure?” Everyone could tell Lissa was trying to contain her excitement.

Though Maribelle had been the one that had done fifteen years of ballet, Lissa was more enthusiastic about the arts. Gaius once said that it was probably because of all the art classes she took when she was an undeclared college student.

Owain’s enthusiastic nodding was her only answer before he went back to whatever mischievous thing he had been doing. Sumia smiled as he zoomed out of the room cape in tow.

Once they had finished with the initial meal, both Lissa and Maribelle pulled Olivia aside for more information on her dance class. Cherche, Lon’qu and Gaius went to the kitchen to “clean up”, but she knew better (they really don’t know how to plan surprises).

Sumia was left by herself in the dining room. By herself. It hurt in a strange way.

 

 

-

 

 

Sighing to herself, she pushed herself through her apartment door. Her shoulders ached from carrying that lone violin, and then all the excitement from dinner had worn her down even more.

Though Gaius hadn’t baked the cake himself, he made sure to have put a lot of attention into decorating it. It had been red velvet but the icing had been her favorite part. Owain had a piece too many (she sneaked more cake to him when neither Maribelle or Lissa had been looking). And then she excused herself, hugging everyone goodbye and waving off attempts to walk her out.

Her apartment reeked of loneliness and dinner-for-one meals. Most days she slept on the couch, its lumpiness being decent enough. Her room was littered with music sheets and its walls adorned awards she had won over the years. But on most days she refused to sleep in there.

She gathered her blankets and readied for bed. Brushing her teeth, she thought about the violin from the shop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe she was being too nostalgic but she swears she’s seen that violin before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as well. I'm so sorry for being so late about this chapter!!


	3. Gymnopédie No.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So maybe she shouldn't fully retract that wish.

  Work the next day was...dull. Sumia enjoyed the quietness of the shop most days, but today she wished for anyone to come through the door.

  Mr. Amano was in the back taking what seemed to be an important call, leaving Sumia to herself at the front. She had already shined the violins and had dusted the rest of the instruments that had found a home within the store. She even reorganized the booklet section by color; honestly they were all some variation of black or gray.

"The music sheet section could probably use some organizing," she thought to herself. But the store’s phone ringing stopped her from moving any further.

“Hello, you have reached Amano’s Music Shop, how may I help you?”

  The voice that followed struck a chord of familiarity in its deepness and hint of sternness, “ _I want to verify a pick-up date for my order._ ”

“I would just need your last name and phone number,” she said, already walking over to the store’s computer.

“ _It would be Durer and 773-XXX-XXXX,_ ” the man said.

  Sumia had no trouble picking out his order, “Your order of a 1500 4/4 Stentor violin and a Scott Cao 1740 Ex-David is ready for pick-up tomorrow.”

  Both violins were beautiful and expertly made, Sumia felt a little jealous to whoever this violins were going to go to. Though, she had no reason to be, considering she played only the piano (or well, used to play the piano).

  There was a minute of silence before the man spoke up, “ _I will not be able to pick up my order, would it be alright if someone else does?_ ”

“We could also hold the order if need be, but yes someone else can pick it up. We would just need you to leave a name and they would need to bring an I.D,” she explained.

“ _Thank you, but no, I rather it be picked up tomorrow than to hold the order,_ ” he paused, “ _The person that will come to your store tomorrow is named Stahl Holtzer._ ”

“Alright, Mr. Durer, is there a specific time Mr. Holtzer will be here by?”

“ _12 p.m, however if that is not a good time, he can come later or earlier, whichever is preferred,_ ” he stated.

“That time is okay, your order will be ready by then.”

  They exchanged brief goodbyes, the entire conversation replaying in Sumia’s head. There was something about that voice that reminded her of years prior. Maybe he might have gone to school with her, that seemed the most possible.

  She made her way to the back to tell Mr. Amano of the order; she wouldn’t be here after all. She had promised Gaius to help him set up his bakery for opening day (in exchange for his help earlier in the day). And everyone would be there, so she couldn’t cancel even if she had wanted to (though Sumia doubts she would ever have wanted to do so).

“Mr. Amano-” Sumia stopped speaking instantly, finding the old man to still be on the phone.

  She ended up waiting more than twenty minutes for Mr.Amano to finish. Surely she should have been worried about leaving the front for that long, but today had proven to be a slow day.

“I apologize, a concert hall wanted to rent some instruments to commemorate some musician,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I declined.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t take that all too well,” Sumia sheepishly stated. She didn't bother asking why he had declined; she learned that the vague answers he gave weren't much in the end.

She handed him the papers in her hand, “Stahl Holtzer will be here tomorrow to pick up Mr. Durer’s order.”

  He studied the papers closely, and Sumia was only given a nod towards the violins in question. She took that as him telling her to get it ready. Though, she was never good at wrapping things nor getting instruments prepped for their new home (honestly it was the easiest job to do, next to rearranging the music sheets).

  Their respective cases were both beautifully made. Mr. Amano probably paid a hefty penny to get those specifically. Whoever was getting these violins was probably sincerely loved or just extremely lucky to be in Mr. Durer’s good graces.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“Can you play the violin?” Gaius asked in between bites.

  She wasn’t exactly sure of what Gaius was eating, but it seemed like he was genuinely enjoying it (though she doubted she could have ever enjoyed anything that green.)

“Uh, I tried playing it freshmen year of highschool, but then I decided I should stick to the piano,” she finished lamely.

  Her fifteen year old self had not been anticipating the soreness of her shoulder from continuous practice. Honestly, playing it had been harder than she was prepped for. 

“I felt the same about the tuba, told myself that I would do the world good by sticking to baking.”

“Well, I can’t say you were wrong about that,” She laughed at his feigned hurt expression.

Gaius started laughing too, “I guess you and Maribelle can handle that arts.”

"Though Maribelle isn't even that into the arts anymore. Too busy with law nowadays."

"Someone has to deal with the law, I feel safer knowing she's doing it."

  The rest of their lunch had been pleasant, and Sumia had several pictures of Gaius goofing off to show for it. Gaius lamented not being able to spend the rest of the day with her; he still needed to finalize some paperwork for his shop.

“Hey, before I forget,” he looked at her briefly, “I won’t be needing your help tomorrow, I have to push back my opening day for another week. The furniture store messed up my order of chairs and tables.”

Sumia furrowed her eyebrows, “How did that happen?”

“They rented them out by mistake for some big party for this musician that’s in town,” Gaius growled, “They didn’t realize until yesterday, woke me up from nap when they noticed them missing.”

“Well, when they fix that, I’ll be there to help you,” she offered him a smile, which he returned (though it looked a little fake to her).

  The walk home was a bit tiring (she should really look into getting her car fixed), but she relished in the calmness that came with it. She wondered what everyone else was doing, but she knew she would grow sad if she thought about it too much.

  Sure, they were always welcome to her company but they all had someone waiting at home for them or something to do. But yet, even on good days, she finds herself bored by 7 pm.

  For a moment she wonders if a woman out there with pale cheeks is going through something similar. If she also was sighing when she stepped through her front door, or if she too had someone waiting for her at the other side of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sumia goes straight to bed after that thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\---------

 

  Mr. Amano had been cheerful that he would have his "favorite employee" in the front, and Sumia could only laugh at his teasing. He sympathized with Gaius's situation, but he hadn't said much else about it. He shuffled back into the backroom, quietly mumbling to Sumia about how much work he had to do. 

  She wonders if he’s in the right shop at first. He’s awkward tallness causes him to hit his head on the door frame, and he mutters several apologies while he makes his way to the front counter. But her doubts are erased once she gets the chance at reading his name tag.

  He’s boyishly cute (though she thinks Gaius would have enjoyed him more), and he blushes slightly when she greets him.

“I’m going to guess and say you’re Mr. Holtzer and you’re here for a pick up,” she said.

He laughed nervously, “Then you’re a good guesser, have you been expecting me? How’d you know that I’m the Holtzer you need?”

“Your name tag says it all,” she teased.

“You could call me Stahl, Mr. Holtzer makes me feel like my dad,” he offers, “But uhh, where would the order be? I’m not sure how this works, I never really bought an instrument before?”

“I’ll need to get them from the backroom, if you could wait for a few minutes,” she states, “And then I’ll help with any questions you may have.”

“Before you go, can I get your name?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

She smiled, “My name is Sumia Beaulieu.”

  She leaves him there, wondering if he notices who she is (or well who she used to be). When she comes back she finds him wandering around the shop, with a few blank set of music notebooks in hand. He really is awkward. 

“Uh, here they are,” Sumia rested them on the counter, “Mr. Holtzer, did Mr. Durer tell you if he wanted the 2-year warranty or the 10-year warranty?”

“Um, knowing Frederick he would want the 10-year warranty, how much would that cost?” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

“He paid for the 10-year warranty but did not check which plan he had wanted on his order sheet, I just wanted to make sure,” she said.

  The next ten minutes were spent with Sumia asking questions and Stahl doing his best with answering them. But she notices his fidgeting and the light blush that covers his cheeks whenever she stares directly at him.

“And then, once the receipt is printed out, you'll be good to go," she said.

He cleared his throat, “Um, Sumia was it? Would there be any chance of you having dinner with me, when you’re free, whenever would be best for you.”

  It took a moment for her to register his words, but she could only smile politely in the end.

“I’m afraid I’m not interested, Stahl. It’s really not you, you’re a really sweet-” “Guy, it’s okay I understand.”

“I’m interested in women, but if you’re okay with that dinner being a friendly one, then I am happy to go,” she hoped he said yes.

  Even if he had been clearly flirting with her, something about him screamed warmth and an overall goodness. She wanted him as a friend if he would have her, she was sure they could click well enough for that to happen. How she came to that conclusion, well honestly she wasn't sure.

Stahl winced, “I feel stupid for assuming the worst from you, sorry I tend to do that a lot. I’d love to have dinner with you as friends.”

  And with that they exchanged phone numbers and he smiled his way out the door in his boyish way. Sumia felt good about the whole thing, even if his dimples reminded her of someone else’s.

  Ugh. There she goes again remembering what she doesn’t want to. Finding them in others and in herself. Sometimes she wishes that she hadn’t met them, but then she wouldn’t be the person she was now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But who she was now wasn’t all the great, so maybe she shouldn’t fully retract that wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stahl got introduced! And Mr. Durer and his order as well.  
> I apologize for taking so long to upload this. I tried rewriting it, but it seems that it will stay like this. School is going to get out soon, so I'll be able to update this more frequently.  
> I am about halfway done through chapter 5, so I have one chapter ready for uploading. Let's call Sunday our update day!


	4. Gymnopédie No.3

  She watched Maribelle cook from the kitchen counter. The taller woman was making some sort of cold pasta (Sumia wouldn't be eating that) and searing some vegetables for the brown rice (now that she would be eating).

  Blond hair was wrapped in a bun. Mostly for Owain's sake. After a particularly traumatizing encounter at a restaurant they no longer go to, he needed to be sure that hair was no where near his food.

  A week had past since meeting Stahl. She told Maribelle everything about their encounter, even the whole bit of Stahl flirting with her. Maribelle had extended an invitation to dinner, but Sumia declined. She still hadn’t even properly talked to him aside from the occasional text or two during her work hours.

“Hey, do you know anything about the party that stole Gaius’s chairs?” she asked, her eyes following the other.

Setting the stove on low, Maribelle turned around to face her, “It’s for Frederick Durer, he's a renowned pianist. My department was asked to attend, though I think I'm going to have to reject that invitation. I much rather watch paint dry than praise some man for his piano-playing.”

“Frederick Durer? That’s who made the order, the one that Stahl picked up, or at least I think it is...from the phone call he seemed like a serious man," she said.

The other woman raised an eyebrow, "And you didn't recognize him?"

She shook her head, "Why would I recognize him?”

“Sumia, it’s Frederick from high school.”

  Maribelle watched as the name registered, watched as she paled, watched as her expression turn to one of hurt. Frederick Durer was not a man who she had ever felt fondness for. He had nurtured a bitterness towards her that had manifested itself often.

  They had been rivals. At least that had been what the media had called them, and perhaps to Frederick they were. But she did not see him in that light. She had played the piano for enjoyment and by some grace of Naga she was really good at it (“You’re too humble,” someone once said). But he had played it just to best her, he had always made that known.

“One day, I’m going to take what matters most to you and win it for myself.”

  How right he had been, but it was not the piano that he had won. For a moment she wonders if _they_ had stayed together. She doubted it, but she had no way of knowing. Frederick had not been a man that paid much attention to anything besides his practices (but maybe he had changed). _She_ would not have stayed with him, Frederick had not been good enough for _her_ (but then again neither had Sumia been).

“Are you going to stay for dinner?” Maribelle rested a hand on her shoulder, “You should, to get your mind off that man.”

Sumia sighed, “I will. Owain can cheer me up with his antics.”

“I’m sure he’ll happily tell you all about his first dance class,” Maribelle shook her head dramatically, “I can already imagine him now. Dinner is not going to peaceful nor quiet.”

“But you wouldn’t have it any other way,” she teased.

  Maribelle just lightly pushed her in response.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“Momma!!”

  Sumia watched as a blonde blur collided against Maribelle. Owain hugged her legs tightly and excitedly told her about all things dance. Lissa followed, holding a sleeping Brady against herself tightly.

“Olivia said that he’s really good for his age!” Lissa boasted happily, pressing a kiss on the other blonde’s cheek.

She then greeted Sumia, “Hey, are you gracing us with your presence for dinner? Cherche and Olivia should be coming by, and maybe Gaius. He never replied to my text, the nerve of him!"

“I am, but I’m feeling hurt, a certain someone hasn’t hugged me yet,” she pouted towards Owain.

  The boy did not hesitate to bombard her with a hug. She ruffled his hair, a smile resting on her lips. Owain stuck with her, telling her in detail how his class went. Maribelle and Lissa took this time to set Brady down for nap (“I think I need a nap,” “Dear, you just got home.”)

  Eventually he tired himself and was content with just watching TV with Sumia. She wasn’t really sure what they ended up settling on, but Owain seemed happy with it.

  She was browsing through articles on Frederick (curse her curiosity). He had recently toured Europe, but he had also recently gotten a divorce (but that was rumored? Hm). She wondered who his wife had been, no media outlet seemed to know (and she guessed that meant they really didn’t want to be found). But she decided she couldn’t and shouldn’t dwell on him or anything relating to him. Maribelle wouldn't approve.

  Had those instruments been bought only as compensation for being a terrible husband? A terrible father? The smaller violin had been fitted for a child, a child not much older than Owain at least.

  She could ask Stahl about it, but she didn’t want him to feel as though she was using him for that. Though she doubted he would think that, she couldn’t risk it either way.

  Looking to her right, she smiled at the now sleeping Owain. She could hear the soft mumbling of Lissa and Maribelle talking even from where she was, and the soft buzzing from the air conditioner a room over.

  Slipping an arm underneath him, Sumia picked him up slowly (he would get a crick in his neck if he slept here). She made her way upstairs, making sure to not let her clumsiness get the best of her.

  Just as she was about to turn the corner into Owain’s room, she caught Lissa saying her name but not to her (clearly).

“What about her?” Maribelle lowered her voice, she must have heard her coming up the stairs.

“Does she know?”

“Know what?”

  Lissa sighed, and the corners of Sumia’s mouth raised slightly. The shorter blonde probably had rolled her eyes at her wife, and she imagined she had also rested a hand on her hip.

“Sometimes I doubt that you always remember what you tell me. Does she know about his wife? Who she is I mean? Or was,”

“No,” there was a pause, “And she won’t know. He was the only thing she and I talked about, why are you even mentioning that?”

“Mari, she’s going to find out and she’s not going to like that you or the others didn’t tell her.”

“She’s not. She won’t.”

“Mari,” another sigh, “She will.”

“I know, but how am I to find the right words to tell her?”

“You’ll find them, in some form or another, but just make sure it’s sooner rather than later.”

  Sumia felt dread settle into her stomach. She had heard something she’d rather she hadn’t, something not meant for her ears. She quickly went into Owain’s room, and softly closed the door behind her.

  Laying the boy unto his bed, she made sure to drape a blanket over him and that he was far from the edge of the bed (she would hate if he fell unto the wooden floor, from her experience it wasn’t all that pleasant). She sat at the edge of the bed, resting her head against her hands.

  She could hide in here for the time being, until this uneasiness went away.

 

 

 

\-----

 

 

 

“I brought some cookies to celebrate Owain’s first dance lesson,” Gaius proudly showed off the sugar cookies to her.

  Lissa had all but dragged her out of that room once she realized Sumia was not in the living room anymore (“I thought you had gotten kidnapped! And my baby boy was gone too! I thought the worst!”) But once noticing her somber mood, Lissa let her be in the kitchen. Maribelle had done the same, only sending glances her way.

“They look great,” she smiled at him, “But I’m sure Maribelle isn’t going to let him have more than one.”

“I know, there’s more for me that way,” he cheekily replied.

She laughed, shaking her head, “You’ll ruin your teeth.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before,” he reached over and flicked her forehead, “What’s up with you?”

“What? I’m a-okay, I am,” She fiddled with the bottom of her shirt.

Gaius flicked her again, “A-okay? Sumia, you sound like Owain trying to hide a booboo from Lissa. Something's bothering you, your awkward posture says it all.”

“I do not,” She dodged another flick, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Gaius sighed but she guessed he decided to leave the issue alone, because after one last flick he walked out of the kitchen. Hugging herself, Sumia almost followed after him. It was just she wasn’t even sure about what the Maribelle and Lissa had been talking about, or if it was even a bad thing (but then why would they be hiding it?)

  And from what Lissa had said, it seemed like everyone else knew as well. Gaius knew, and how was she to talk about it knowing that? Normally Gaius was out of the loop just as much as she was (he couldn’t keep much to himself, surprise parties were always a bust if he knew).

  Whatever it is must serious, if even he was told. And she tried not to feel hurt knowing that they probably talked about her whenever she wasn’t there (“Poor thing can’t even play the piano anymore,” she imagined them saying).

“You look like you’re deep in thought,” Sumia didn’t look up, “Gaius walked out of this kitchen looking defeated.”

  Fresh mint with a hint of sweetness was what Cherche smelled like to her, and at this point Cherche was distinguishable among a crowd. It also spoke volumes of the type of person she was. She was remarkably blunt but never with the intention of causing hurt (though the intention doesn't excuse the outcome).

This was so unfair of Gaius!

“What is on your mind?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Sumia wanted to fake hearing Brady crying or something like that, "I didn't even hear you and Olivia come in, was your drive here okay?"

“Sumia.”

“That isn’t fair, you know I can’t keep anything from you or the others. But-” she had to keep herself from saying too much. They can’t know that she now knows.

“But you feel like we are keeping things from you?”

“No it’s not that-”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just-”

“It’s just you’re feeling down?”

“No-” She wouldn’t be Cherche if she wasn’t so insisting, but at this moment Sumia wished she would just let it go. She’ll have to give Gaius a piece of her mind after this (maybe she’ll rob his bakery once it opens).

“No that you’re not feeling down, or no as in that’s not it?”

“Cherche, I really am okay, and I would like to not continue to talk about this,” she looked up to see the other’s intense stare (Oh Naga, she can see why Olivia to this day still blushes at direct eye contact with this woman).

“Sumia, it’s going to keep bothering you and it seems like whatever it is includes us as well,” Cherche offered a gentle smile, “so, unfortunately, I can’t let you not talk about it.”

She knows she won’t win this, so she can only sigh, “What are you guys keeping from me? What is it that I can’t know?”

At that Cherche stiffened, “What do you mean?”

“I heard Lissa and Maribelle talking about something,” she glanced beyond the taller woman, said women were happily talking with Olivia and Gaius.

“About what? They could have just mentioned you in passing, whatever it is you’re alluding to.”

“No, it wasn’t in passing. Lissa said something about how I would figure something out and be upset with you all. And then she went on and said that Maribelle had to tell me sooner rather than later.” She wasn’t sure if Cherche completely understood what she said, mumbling tended to mess with cohesion. 

“Well do you remember anything else? Though that helps me, it would help to know more about what they had been talking about.”

“About someone’s wife?”

  Cherche froze. Sumia could tell the other was struggling to figure out what to tell her, or perhaps try to word out a lie to tell her.

“Sumia,” the other started hesitantly, “just trust me when I say this, but you can’t know about that just yet. Though I’m sure you’re feeling hurt and some betrayal over us keeping something from you, it really is for the best that you don’t know.”

“So you all expect me to go on about my days and not wonder whatever it is that I’m apparently not ready to know?”

  She was right. She was hurt and this confirmation, this nervousness that Cherche was emitting, was just making her hurt even more.

“Sumia, please, just wait. Maribelle will tell you properly and she’ll be able to answer all your questions when that time comes.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not the person that should tell you, and...well you're still grieving. Whether it's over the piano or not, you're still grieving over your loss."

  Sumia looked away from concerned eyes and hugged herself even tighter. She shook off Cherche’s hand on her shoulder, and refused to look at her again.

“I understand.”

Cherche could only look on, unsure of how to comfort her, “I did not say that to hurt you.”

“I know.” Sumia blinked away the fogginess in her eyes, “Can you give me a minute, and then I’ll be okay, and I’ll pretend we didn’t just talk about that.”

“We love you, please know that, and we just want you-”

“To be okay. I know, I’ll be fine.”

  After minutes of silence, Cherche finally left the kitchen and Sumia allowed herself a moment of grief. She hated how sensitive she still was when it came to the piano. She had done such a good job about feigning confidence up until now. She felt like getting herself lost in some forest (maybe then she would be at peace with everything again).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Sumia wonders if a red haired woman was in a kitchen somewhere feeling just as hurt as she was. Or maybe (like always) she was alone in this feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I just wanted you guys to know that if you ever want to know the progress about the next update, or the update schedule (I promise you there won't be anymore month long hiatuses), that you can just shoot that question at my tumblr, consciousstate.tumblr.com 
> 
> And I hope you all enjoy this chapter, hopefully you won't mind that Frederick right now doesn't seem favorable (though I'm not sure if later chapters will help that). Thank you all for the support, I enjoy writing for you all!
> 
> And don't worry we'll meet red hair and pale cheeks soon,


	5. Gnossienne No. 4

  Despite dinner being filled with unease and tension (on her part), Owain rambled on and on about his day. His animated movements nearly knocked his orange juice over. (“Nice save, Gaius.” “Maribelle would have killed us all if her white carpet got stained.”)

 

  Sumia laughed as the boy did impressions of all his classmates, most who he got along with pretty well. But there was one who apparently took Owain’s world by a storm.

 

“Her name is Severa!” Owain yelled, though he adjusted his volume once Maribelle scolded him lightly.

 

Lissa smiled, “They became friends mostly through Owain’s insistence and because they both agree Iron Man isn’t all that.”

 

“Hey, Iron Man tries his best, kid,” Gaius puffed his cheeks, “And he’s richer than Batman, probably.”

 

“Careful, your kid is showing,” Cherche teased, only to be met with a scowl from Gaius.

 

“The kid needs to learn to respect all superheroes,” Gaius mumbled more to himself than anyone else, “But tell us about this Severa girl, kid.”

 

  Everyone waited for the blonde boy to finish chewing, and Sumia wondered if he was even breathing right with how fast he was eating. Maribelle had always scolded him for taking too big of bites and or forgetting to chew properly. Lissa did the same, but usually was too busy sending airplanes Brady’s way to always catch it. She was surprised neither of them were saying anything now.

 

“Severa is really tall! And she has really long hair and pretty brown eyes,” Owain chirped.

 

“How tall are we talking here? How long? How pretty?” Gaius narrowed his eyes playfully.

 

“Um, uh, taller than me! Longer than mine! And as pretty as auntie Sumia’s!” The boy triumphantly finished.

 

The table laughed, and Sumia found herself smiling fondly at his comment, “Thank you, but you’re eyes are even prettier.”

 

Lissa and Maribelle hummed in agreement, but the smaller of the two spoke up, “She’s taller because she’s older than Owain, but she’s much taller than any other 5 year old I’ve seen! And her hair was in these cute little pigtails. She was so polite too!”

 

“Severa Bronch is one of the older students, but she behaves better than most of them. She’s also very doting of the younger ones in the class, though she gets very shy around adults,” Olivia said.

 

“She sounds like a well-mannered girl,” Maribelle smiled, “But I almost forgot that you’re the teacher to this class, how was your first day?”

 

Olivia blushed feeling everyone’s attention on her, “It went well, it helped to know that Lissa and Owain were there. The parents that went were all so very nice, and all the kids seemed to enjoy the class.”

 

“Cherche, you should keep your eyes on some of the boys in there, they took quite a liking to Ms. Baker,” Lissa nudged at the blushing woman.

 

“Hopefully they won’t mind sharing her with me,” Cherche rested her hand on her cheek, “Though I should have figured she would be so popular, how could they not like her?”  
  


Olivia’s blush reddened, “You both do this on purpose every dinner, and I do not appreciate it.”

 

“What could we possibly be doing?”

 

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” Olivia huffed in fake-annoyance.

 

  Sumia wondered if they knew they were a couple others envied, and she wonders if they often found themselves being the center of attention. Olivia would probably blush through it all, but it was hard to stay blushing at the attention when Cherche always made it seem as though they were the only ones wherever they were.

 

  Dinner ended with Gaius flicking his green peas in her direction, and her having to refrain herself from doing the same (she'd hate it if Owain followed in suit, Maribelle would probably chew her head off being the mannerly mother she was).

 

When it came to the goodbyes, Cherche lingered in her hug, whispering "Don't worry yourself about it," into Sumia's ear.

 

  She wanted to protest and make a fuss; she wanted to make Maribelle tell her then and there. But she didn't, and instead she nodded her head along to each syllable.

 

  The drive home was...boring. And then her home was just unsettling in itself.

 

 

_"...and...you're still grieving over the loss of your piano playing."_

 

 

  She stood in front of her piano room, and braced herself as she opened the door.

 

  Sumia breathed in the sadness of the room and exhaled something else, something much more positive.

 

  She would not grieve any longer, or so she told herself.

  


 

 

\--------

  


 

 

  Stahl stood out awkwardly in her home. They weren't that different in height she had figured, but he had already hit himself on one doorframe too many, and it was then that she noticed maybe she had miscalculated.

 

  It had been two weeks since she had first entered the room, and two weeks since her talk with Cherche.

 

  She felt some shame creep up when she had to admit that since that first time in the room, she had avoided it at all costs. But she knew the closure she wanted laid in that room, and maybe the other woman had done right in laying before her those words.

 

  And then guilt picked at her, it had also been two weeks since she had seen any of them. Sure, she had made sure to answer their "Are you alive?" texts and their calls asking how she was, but she hadn't really seen them.

 

  It didn't help that Lissa would always comment on how Owain was starting to ask about her more often (Naga knows she loves that boy), but she couldn't bring herself to be in their company. She couldn't do that to herself knowing what she did.

 

  So today, she had enlisted Stahl's help. He had been too happy to help, and he had even brought her plants to commemorate the event ("You told me the other ones died, so here's to a fresh start.")

 

"So what's the agenda?" He asked.

 

Sumia looked up at him and smiled, "We're going to move the piano to the living room."

 

"By your smile, I can tell we're really means just me," He returned a nervous smile of his own.

 

"You'd break your back if you did it by yourself, I'm serious about helping you," Sumia moved to open the door.

 

  Stahl had to bite back questions when she led him into the room. There was a layer of dust on everything and the room was in disarray almost as if someone had trashed it in anger. And perhaps, Sumia had done just that, but it wasn't like he could ask.

 

  But the piano whose home was this room, stood at the center in all its grandess and classical beauty. Stahl looked from the door to the piano, and though he had never been good with dimensions he was sure things were not adding up.

 

"And how exactly are we going to get that monster of a piano through that door?" He scratched his head, looking at Sumia expectantly.

 

"We'll have to go through the other door. And also, be careful with what you say, you may hurt its feelings," Sumia teased him with a gentle smile.

 

  She walked over to the adjacent wall, and beckoned him to help her move all the shelves and drawers that held music away from it. Stahl dutifully threw away anything Sumia asked him to.

 

"When I first moved here, I needed to find a way to get that piano in here," she grabbed some more books of the shelf, "The movers suggested that I make another door instead of having to always go through the trouble of trying to figure something out."

 

Once the the wall was bare, Sumia motioned for Stahl to come closer, "It's hard to see when there's all that stuff on it, but here’s the handle. It’s a sliding door, it’s easy to conceal and use.”

 

  Stahl blushed at the smile she had on her, and he had to gulp down all nervousness that invaded him. He realized that a part of him would always have a crush on the woman before him, and he was honestly okay with that. But he was more than fine being friends with her as well, there was a charm to her that Stahl couldn’t quite name or describe.

 

“Stahl?” He snapped out of his thoughts, “Yes?”

 

“I asked if you were ready to move the piano," Sumia was already grabbing one end of the piano.

 

"Yeah, what do you need me to do?"

 

Sumia laughed slightly at his sheepish manner, "Just grab the other end and be mindful of the keys."

 

  He did so quickly, and together they attempted to move the piano. It…...did not work out whatsoever (maybe he should have mentioned he was not as strong as he seemed.) The piano barely got off the ground before they both faltered and let the piano go.

 

  The woman fell to the floor, rubbing her arms (she really should remember she is not built for heavy lifting). Hugging her knees, she waited for Stahl to join her on the floor. He sat right next to her, his lanky legs stretched out before them (hugging his knees was far too awkward for him, he had explained).

 

Sumia felt deflated, "I thought just us would be enough."

 

"I could always ask one of my friends? I'm guessing you don't want to ask your own," he offered to her.

 

“No, it’s okay, I think I’ll just get some movers to do it, or something. I’ll figure it out.” Sumia said.

 

“I know you feel hurt about them keeping stuff from you, but you can’t avoid them any longer than you already have,” he reasoned.

 

“I wanted today to happen, so that I could move on faster than I’ve been. This room holds everything that I’ve lost, everything that went wrong, I’ve never you told anything about my past, and I realize this may all sound like vague gibberish,” Sumia looked forward, and Stahl felt as though in that moment she was in some place faraway.

 

“Sumia,” he started, “I know what you mean. I know who you are. You are Sumia Beaulieu, and whatever happened, you can only, well, I-I understand that I don’t understand.”

 

“Did you look me up? Did you see my last performance?” She felt small in the room now, waiting for Stahl to judge her and to criticize her.

 

“I did, mostly because I was told to. I didn’t see the end of the video, because I was so excited to see your other performances. You were amazing, the way you play and the way Frederick does is no comparison. You loved each piece, and each piece you played had a story attached to it,” he talked as though he had stars in his eyes, as though every other performance forgave the failure of her last.

 

  But even if he spoke that way, Sumia still could not find any peace in that. The months, days, years, after that performance were filled with a sense of shame. She mulled over how she should have reacted the moment she stopped hearing the notes, how she should have had more grace with her exit.

 

  But instead she locked herself away and kept to herself after that time. Like a coward who did not want to take ownership of her mistakes. Everyone said they didn’t blame her, but that didn’t stop her from blaming herself. She went wrong somewhere, she didn’t practice enough or maybe she stopped loving playing and maybe all that is why the notes stopped sounding for her.

 

“Sumia, have you played since then?” Stahl stood up.

 

She looked up at him, “I have. It’s never worked. I can get through at least maybe one measure, and then it all stops. I feel so detached, pressing on the keys but not hearing what should be there.”

 

He walked over to the bench they had moved into some corner, and carried it over to the piano. His hands wiped off the dust, and he sat on it, patting the space next to him, “Teach me the keys.”

 

  She looked at him incredulously; she had expected him to ask her to play something. She sat next to him, and her fingertips relished in the coolness of the keys (they probably should dust it before the day ends). Her hands knew all too well the starting playing position, and from the corner of her vision she could see Stahl’s hands fumbling to replicate it.

 

She giggled, “You never played an instrument before? I have never seen someone set their hands like that on a piano.”

 

“No, I was more of a running type of guy,” he smiled, “and my mom would never let me touch my brother’s piano.”

 

“But the piano is so much fun! Even just two notes can make a melody, and it pains me to know you never got to do that as a child,” Sumia furrowed her eyebrows, “You should experiment with it, press all the keys, before I tell you which is which. The piano is a wonderful thing.”

 

  And so he did. Sumia watched as he played each not, each sharp, and she smiled at him whenever he accidentally played a chord (he didn’t know he was though). He truly was a boy at heart, even if his lanky exterior told otherwise.

  


 

 

\---------------

  


 

 

“Okay so this is the middle C, right? And then it goes on and it repeats, right? And then moving up an octave means going to the next C? I should probably have taken notes,” Stahl rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“You’re a great student,” Sumia said.

 

Stahl raised an uneasy eyebrow, “You’re just saying that.”  
  


“No, I’m being honest. We’ll have you playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star before next month, maybe even less!”

 

(“You have too much faith in me.”) Sumia stiffened at the thought of that. She quickly shook her head, recollecting herself before the other could notice.

 

He, however, seemed too preoccupied with his phone, “I have to go, but I’ll be free to come help you again tomorrow and any other day of this week.”

 

He stood up and looked around the room, “We should also probably paint this room too, I’ll send you some color choices from work if I can. Would that be okay?”

 

“Of course that would be okay, I’ll look for a color as well,” she said, standing up as well, “Stay safe while you’re driving.”

 

  She walked him out and laughed when he managed to hit himself on the door frame once again. Her eyes followed him as he walked out to his car, and she only went back inside once he drove away.

 

  But soon her phone buzzed, and she turned on her phone to see a message from Stahl.

 

_/Hey, the plants I gave you need water at least every two days. That’s what the gardener told me! And I have a friend who is a mover, he said he would be willing to help us out, so there’s that? Just text me back when you can about that. You should also talk to your friends soon. They do love you and they probably want to know what’s going on? But you don’t have to, just do what you need for yourself. Sleep tight tonight!/_

 

  He was right.

 

  And well, she had several phone calls to make. Gaius would probably just wave off her absence in the best way he possibly could (he didn’t confrontation all that much). Lissa would invite her to dinner, and Maribelle would question her (and scold her for keeping their calls short). But Cherche and Lon’qu, now those were phone calls she would rather not make.

 

  Tomorrow was going to be busy to say the least.

  
  


 

 

\----

  
  


 

 

  Sumia walked up Lon’qu’s door, and she made sure to hide the cake box she had brought with her. He was one for sweets, maybe not to the extent of Gaius, but she thinks no one can ever reach the baker’s level. And maybe she was taking advantage of how sugar made Lon’qu more easy-going, but she really did not want to have Lon’qu upset with her.

 

  So she had enlisted Gaius’s help, and though he couldn’t come with her, he could at least give her a cake (“You gotta hit him with sugar.”)

 

  She had already talked with everyone else, and all of them had been accepting of her having needed some time to herself. But Cherche had warned about Lon’qu not taking it well, after all he hadn’t even been to dinner that day. They urged her to visit him, and that is how she found herself here.

 

  Ringing the doorbell, Sumia collected herself. The door opened and Lon’qu looked at her with indifference, motioning her to come in.

 

“I know you’re upset,” bringing the cake box in front of her, she continued, “and I know that cake doesn’t change anything, but I brought you some.”

 

“Thanks.” He took the box, “Sit down.”

 

  His apartment, Sumia found, was comforting in the way the walls were dark blues, and a bonsai the centerpiece on each table. Art supplies were scattered across the living room, and it was that she noticed he had been in the middle of painting when she came.

 

  She sat down on the couch, while he sat on the stool facing the canvas.

 

"We'll eat it later, I need to finish this commission by the end of the week. Is it okay with you if I work on this while we talk?" He reached for the fan brush resting on the coffee table.

 

"Of course," she heard him hum at her response.

 

"Cherche told me."

 

  Lon'qu never did beat around the bush, and though usually she appreciated it, she grew nervous at his words.

 

"But maybe she should have done more to comfort you as well. Everything we have done since your last performance, we have done out of care for you. But at times, we sheltered you and protected you from too many things. Sumia, I'll answer any questions you have, and they don't have to know that you know unless you want them to," he said.

 

She shook her head, “I can just wait until Maribelle or whoever is ready to tell me. If you all agreed on this then there must be some serious concern over how I would take the news.”

 

“Really? No questions?” He was staring at her, she knew because there was this weight that came with it. It wasn’t his fault that his stare could be judgeful at times.

 

“I think I know enough, I mean all I really heard was that it had something to do with someone’s wife, and-”

 

  And she stopped. Lon’qu was looking at her expectantly, she knew, she could tell just from the weight of his stare.

 

“Sumia?”

 

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. I mean, I should have pieced it together right?” She hugged herself, and could barely even continue speaking, "It was someone's wife, and the only woman who you could possibly be worried talking about around me is _her_."

 

"She's still a sensitive topic, and I haven't completely let go of her. Even after all these years the memories of her are the most bittersweet, so I understand. I do."

 

  Or maybe she was trying to comfort herself, to convince herself. But Sumia wasn't even sure if she felt relieved that she figured it out, or ashamed that it didn't immediately click.

 

  Lon'qu looked like a lost man, but she was sure that he would recollect himself. He was good at that, at appearing calm and collected always.

 

"Sumia, it's okay to feel hurt."

 

"I need to move on. From her, from that performance, and I am going to," she evened her evened her breathing, "Cordelia is in my past, and I'm not going to allow my memories of her affect me any longer."

  
  
  


 

 

\-------

  
  
  


 

 

  Lon'qu drove her home and listened to her plan for moving on with interest. He offered her suggestions for the new color of her piano room ("Navy blue or midnight blue would be good." "It's always blues with you.")

 

  He even laughed at Stahl's antics, and he then commented on how he was proud of her.

 

"Moving on isn't easy, and yet here you are taking it head on. You're doing what a lot of people wish they could, you're being brave and upfront with yourself," he said.

 

  And Sumia could only smile. He didn't expect a response, she knew. Praise from Lon'qu was something to be cherished, because it was hard for him to always get the right words out. But that just meant each word was that more heavy in weight.

 

  She realized early in their friendship that she would never understand him, but she didn't have to. Each action he made was purposeful and each word meaningful, and that was what truly mattered.

 

  Lon'qu had shared the cake with her, and had wiped away the tears she couldn't keep from falling. He didn't prod her to continue speaking after her realization, and he didn't ask questions either. They both agreed to not let the others know about her knowing anything. It would be a mess that they both didn't want to deal with just yet.

 

"Sumia, you zone out a lot. But that's part of your charm, I would suppose."

 

"It helps pass the time at the shop. Thank you for the ride home, though I wouldn’t have minded walking either,” she commented lightly.

 

He scoffed, “Like hell I was going to let you walk alone out this late.”

 

  Once home, Sumia beamed at Lon’qu. She thanked him profusely, and maybe she overdid it a bit with her dramatics (though he managed a smile through it all).

 

  She knew overcoming everything was going to need the help of everyone, but she was happy to settle with Stahl’s and Lon’qu’s help for now.

 

  Maybe Cordelia was also overcoming her own setbacks as well, and maybe she was also taking a step forward in being honest with herself. But Sumia has to admit that for once she does not shudder at the thought of that familiar face, and her heart does not ache for closure.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She would be okay, she was sure of it. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I am open to scoldings and daily reminders to write and get things uploaded. I apologize profusely! I really am trying to get things into schedule, but alas writing is a taxing thing :(
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! Let's all wish Sumia luck!


	6. Rachmaninov Prelude in B minor, Opus 32, No. 10

   She remembers her father’s gentle voice pointing out chords to her, and him guiding her smaller hands across the octaves. He would find her sleeping underneath the piano, and he would carry her to bed. Practice was never practice for her then, it was just time with her dad.

 

   And when he passed, she would sit at their piano back home and find herself crying whenever she had thought too much of him. Playing became overwhelming with all the emotions it enticed out of her, but she could not bring herself to stop playing. Her father would not have wanted her to stop because of him (her mother mentioned that to her everyday). Dad would want the best for her. He would.

 

   But each time she sat at that piano bench, she was struck by this same melancholy she was feeling now. Knowing you had to move on and actually doing it were two separate things.

 

   Though it seemed the world would not allow her much time to herself, if her ringing phone was of any indication. She doubted it was Stahl. He had already texted her to tell her he was going to be busy today. And Lon’qu was going to be at a gallery opening for most of the day, so it couldn't be him. Maybe it was Lissa? Or Gaius? He has been calling her more often.

 

She answered the phone, not really bothering to check the caller ID.

 

“Hello?”

 

“ _Sumia, you let the phone ring too much._ ”

 

Ah, she should have guessed, “Mom, I’m sorry for making you wait. I was just thinking about-”

 

“ _Your father’s birthday, I know. That's why I’m calling you,_ ” her mother paused, “ _I wanted to check on you._ ”

 

“You didn’t have to, I’m fine,” she walked away from the piano, “But thank you.”

 

Her mother scoffed, “ _Sumia, you always depress yourself around this time, I have to check on you. Who knows what situations you could be in, let's not forget two years ago and your whole overnight stay at the jail house. Have you eaten today? Have you practiced?_ ”

 

“Mom, you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again,” she whined into the phone.

 

Her mother’s laugh rung in her ear, “ _You should know by now that I didn't really mean that. But answer my questions! And don’t think you’ll be able to lie to me, I’ll call one of your friends up to verify everything if I have to._ ”

 

“I ate an apple, but right now I’m waiting on my stew to finish cooking, and…” she always struggled with the second question, “Mom, you know I don’t play anymore.”

 

" _And I don't understand why you don't. You should practice, if not for yourself, then at least for your dad,_ " there it was her mother's sure way of making her feel guilty.

 

"Mom, I'll try."

 

" _And, Sumia, we won't be able to have dinner on his birthday_."

 

She stiffened, "Why not? We always do, we always make sure we do that for him."

 

" _Your grandfather needs me that day. He's moving out to the countryside, so he needs help. I think he's doing it on purpose, but you never know with your grandfather._ "

 

"Then what do I do?"

 

" _You go out with your friends and enjoy your day. He always wanted you to be happy even after he passed, so don't you dare mope around._ "

 

"But-"

 

" _Sumia, I know it's his birthday, and I'm sorry our plans this year got canceled, but I'm serious about you enjoying yourself. And I'm not saying that to make you feel guilty,_ " her mother's tone was now beyond serious.

 

   And then she hung up while her mother was in mid-sentence. She immediately regretted it, but her mother had always told her to stick by the decisions she made. So even if her mother was now blowing up her phone with calls and voicemails, she wouldn't answer or open them.

 

   A part of her wanted to be childish and demand her mother to celebrate with her, but the much bigger part of her knew that if her mother had a choice her father would always come first.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

"Well, she's right," Lissa commented lamely.

 

She sighed and nodded, "Mothers tend to be. I just don't know what I'm going to do."

 

"Hm, you could really do anything. Maybe even just go out and treat yourself," the blonde smiled at her.

 

"I'd rather not be alone, I would spend too much and buy things I don't need," she replied, "But I can't stay at home either......"

 

Lissa held up a color card for her, "This green could be the one."

 

"It's too...murky, and kind of depressing," she replied said.

 

"This shopping trip is depressing. Here I was thinking you were inviting me on actual outing, but instead we've been looking at paint palettes for an hour now."

 

   Maybe she had used a little deception to get the shorter girl to come with her, but it was only because she was the best. Lissa had been the one to do all the color cordinating when Maribelle and she had first moved into their home. And each room looked great, almost as if it were one of those houses from a lifestyle magazine.

 

   But no color the other had picked out seemed to speak to her. There had been countless blues that did not make the cut, and recently they had entered into the green territory. Those, however, she could really not bring to like (not even the light ones).

 

“How about a grey?” Lissa excitedly waved the color card.

 

She mulled over her thoughts before smiling widely at the other, “Yeah, that could work, grey is soothing by itself. ”

 

“Great! So, I think now you owe me a real shopping trip!” Lissa smiled widely, and Sumia could only look on with amusement.

 

“I’ll drive, and you just tell me where you want to go,” Sumia grabbed the color cards from her, “I’ll just go get this processed, and I’ll meet you by the cash registers.”

 

   It would be half an hour wait before she could get the paint buckets (would two be enough?), and in the mean time she walked through the aisles. Lissa, she found, easily entertained herself. The other was probably looking through building materials and comparing the sizes of wooden planks. (“Owain has been begging me for wooden sword, who am I to deny my son?” “Is Maribelle okay with that?” “She doesn’t have a say in the manner.”)

 

   She couldn’t decide on paint brushes, and through her obliviousness of all that was around her she bumped into a stranger. She apologized profusely but stopped as soon as she saw that familiar dopey smile.

 

“Stahl?”

 

“Sumia, I didn’t know a hardware store was your sort of hang out spot," he joked.

 

"I thought you were busy with work all day, what are you doing here?" Sumia furrowed her eyebrows.

 

"I'm on break, I'm here to pick up paint for a friend. And I was going to send you some color choices, but it seems like you already got that covered," he smiled, "That grey is going to look really great with the white shelves."

 

"Lissa helped me pick it out," she said, and Stahl thought maybe there was a hint of bashfulness in her tone.

 

   As Sumia went about her errands, they continued talking. Stahl helped her choose everything from paint rollers to brushes, and she in turn helped him narrow down his own color choices. She never really asked what they were for, but she didn't find the need to. 

 

   Eventually they both met up with Lissa, who acted rather weirdly when introduced to Stahl (but she wasn't going to dwell on that). Stahl himself seemed more nervous as well, but she chalked it up to Lissa's overenthusiastic greeting. Lissa and Stahl complimented each other well, and Sumia's heart swelled at them getting along.

 

   Somewhere along the way their conversation shifted from smalltalk to a serious discussion on sword building. Stahl offered to build a sample one for Lissa to follow, but the other one simply shook her head ("If it comes down to me needing help, I'll get Maribelle to do everything.") Sumia laughed at Stahl's look of rejection, and told him to not be hurt by Lissa ("Maribelle would be hurt if Lissa took your help.")

 

   Stahl, however, soon had to go back to work. He lamented not being able to stay longer, but both women waved him off. Lissa extended an offer of dinner for whenever he was able to drop by. The short woman went off to get the paint (30 minutes was long past) when Stahl and Sumia began to exchange goodbyes.

 

"Sumia, later this week, would you be able to meet me for lunch?" Stahl had this wary look in his eyes.

 

She nodded, and he continued talking, "I have things to talk to you about."

 

"Okay," she gave a smile, "It sounds serious."

 

He rubbed the back of his neck in his usual manner, "Uh, yeah."

 

  Stahl apologized again and commented on how he now really had to go. Sumia had to hold in her laughs as he awkwardly walked away (he had bumped into a pile of metal).

 

"Sumia! I got the paint!" Lissa had said in a singsong voice.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

   She really needed to give Maribelle more credit. Shopping with Lissa was really tiring when she's in charge of carrying the bags. It's funny when Gaius has to do it, but it's painful when she's the victim (but that's just her exaggeration)

 

   After letting the few bags she had drop to the floor, she moved to put away the paint in the piano room. Tomorrow she would put up the masking tape and set newspapers around the floor. No more would be able to get done, not if she wanted to be at Owain's dance class on time.

 

   Lissa had asked of it as a favor seeing as she and Maribelle were going to be at far too boring dinner party ("Owain is not a dinner party kind of boy.") And though they could have asked Cherche, the young boy had insisted on his Aunt Sumia coming to see his class and pick him up.

 

   She had agreed without hesitancy, she would do anything for Owain. And from their talks at dinner, she could expect the class to be an eventful one. It would be just a short trip to and from as well. By the time they would come back, Lissa and Maribelle would already be home (and hopefully not doing anything risque)

 

   But all she wanted now was some rest, honestly she was too tired to even move herself to her bedroom. If she was being honest though, she rarely fell asleep in her bedroom. Something about the room unsettled her, while the couch, even if it was uncomfortable at first, managed to give her a sense of peace.

 

   Exhaling, she lulled herself to sleep. At first all she could think about was that she needed to get better at being better. And what that meant she wasn’t entirely sure of, but she at least had the idea that being better with herself meant taking steps forward. And maybe all the progress she would need would be found in just painting and reworking that piano room. Or maybe it would take more than that, and she would have to push herself out there and really make herself visible once again.

 

   But she hadn’t a clue on what to do besides reworking that room. That was only one part of her past she needed to come to terms with, and the other part still struck a chord. She knew she would have to forget the red hair, the pale cheeks, and wing hair ornaments, but how was she supposed to?

 

   She had thought that with time came closure, because all her life she was told to give things time (since time heals all) but yet here she was with that same heartache hugging every inch of her being. Or it probably wasn’t even heartache at all, it could be bitterness at not knowing the answers to the questions that have plagued her mornings and nights.

 

   What she dreamed that night, she would never utter to anyone but her. And even then she doubt she would ever actually say it (it’d be far too embarrassing), or that she would get the chance to see her again. It was for the better that they weren’t in each other’s lives anymore, but that might change if Maribelle and Lissa’s hushed conversation had been any indication.

 

 

She would think about it more tomorrow.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

   Olivia waved at her from her post at the wall, and Sumia waved back awkwardly. She had arrived later than anticipated (she blames the rain), and so all eyes were on her. However soon attention went back to the kids who were all diligently listening to their instructor. It was cute to see their intense faces, and it was adorable to see Owain trying his absolute best.

 

   It was then that she really took in the scene. The studio was by no means big, but it was enough to house thirty eager students. And the class stuck mostly to themselves leaving their guests enough room to be among themselves. It left a lot of open room and for that she was grateful.

 

   She stuck by the wall, not wanting herself too close to everyone else. Keeping a conversation going was not one of her strongest suits, she couldn’t put these kind people through that mess. And so for two hours she would stand there in her secluded area where she could see Owain (and he looked at her often, beaming all the way).

 

   The girl next to him must be Severa, and she had to admit but her eyes were gorgeous (their shade a little familiar). They were definitely far prettier than her own, so she felt humbled about Owain’s comparison. And her hair was certainly long, though it was hard to judge from the bun it was currently in. Even if she had no training in dancing, she could see the girl was gifted with amazing talent. Owain as well, and that she had seen up close whenever he had practiced at home.

 

   He was really good; the small mistakes he made were easily corrected. Severa usually corrected him before Olivia could even notice them. The young girl kept an eye on him, she noticed that as well, and was never too far from him during their small breaks of water.

 

   

   She was thankful that Owain had a friend like that, it reminded her of how C----no. Not now. She shouldn’t, couldn’t think of her.

 

 

It took Owain’s excited tugging of her arm to get her back down from her thoughts.

 

“Did I do good?!” Owain asked hurriedly.

 

Ruffling his hair, she said “Of course, you were really good. I wish I could dance as well as you.”  
  


“Wait right here!” he said dramatically, running back to where the other kids were.

 

   Everyone was already leaving, and she was surprised at how quickly the studio emptied. But there were still a handful waiting for their parents who were either late or crowding around Olivia making small talk.

 

Soon she saw Owain’s blonde hair being followed by a red bun, both in a hurry back to her.

 

“This is my friend Severa!” He then pointed to her, “And this is my auntie Sumia! She’s taking me home today!”

 

“Hello,” she could sense the shyness of the girl, “Owain’s told me a lot about you. Thank you for looking after him.”

 

“It’s no problem, he takes care of me too,” the girl bashfully mumbled.

 

   Severa certainly was tall now that she had a good look of her, and she was well mannered (and her shyness was cute). Owain seemed so excited about her, and it warmed Sumia’s heart to know that.

 

“Auntie! Can we wait until Severa leaves? Momma does whenever she comes, so can we?” Owain tugged at her sleeves again, and Severa looked at her expectantly as well.

 

   Momma was Lissa? Or was it Maribelle? Either way she was going to agree, and so she did. Owain thanked her loudly, and Severa thanked her profusely. She let them go off by themselves, though she made sure to have a view of them when they finally decided to settle on an area.

 

   Once the last batch of parents bid their goodbyes, and the children waved goodbye to Owain and Severa, they were all that was left of the formerly busy studio. Olivia took to standing next to Sumia and they talked about the class and then later the conversation touched upon everything.

 

   She surprisingly told Olivia about the reworking she was doing on the piano room, and the pink haired woman offered to drop by and help when she could (“Honestly it wouldn’t be a problem at all, I’m rarely tired after teaching.”) She thanked her and offered her own help, in the case Cherche and her ever decided to redecorate or repaint their apartment.

 

   But soon, she realized it had long since past the time class had ended, and yet no one had picked Severa up. Both kids seemed bubbled in their own little world (“Did you read the new issue of Batman?” “Yeah, I liked the new Catwoman better though.”)

 

“Her father is late, but knowing him, he probably won’t show up now,” Olivia muttered with distaste.

 

“Does this happen often?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes. Usually Severa always expects her father to pick her up but usually a family friend picks her up before it gets too late,” the other woman thoughtfully replied.

 

“So then even the family friend is late today,” Sumia chewed her lip.

 

“Her mother is probably on her way, she works a late shift, but I know that if she could have she would have been here earlier,” Olivia seemed sure of that.

 

Sumia raised her eyebrows, “Why a late shift?”

 

“So she can take Severa to school and pick her up. She’s working towards being a surgeon, and often that leaves her with not enough time to spend with Severa, but she really does try and she’s there for her more than her father,” Olivia sighed, “But, maybe I shouldn’t have just blabbed that to you.”

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. My lips are sealed, and if you hadn’t told me that, I would have probably thought bad about her mom.”

 

“I doubt it, you’re a good person, Sumia.”

 

    And so they waited together. The kids seemed not at all bothered  by the wait, and Sumia was just happy she was able to watch over Severa while her mother got to the studio. With Olivia’s company, the wait didn’t seem as long as it was.

 

The door hinges made a sound, and Olivia knew instantly who it was, “I’ll go open the door for her.”

 

   Sumia nodded and instead of watching the other woman go and do that, she went to get the kids ready. Owain didn’t fuss when she put on his sweater, and Severa was all too patient when Sumia struggled to button up her light coat. The young boy pouted at the prospect of having to leave his friend, and Severa seemed a bit glum about it as well.

 

“You could always ask your mom to set up a playdate or invite Severa and her mom to dinner, when you get home,” and with that they bothed brightened up.

 

     She reached for both their hands and walked over to Olivia’s spot at the door.

  
  


Her muscles tensed. Her breathing hitched. There was this horrible lurching of her nerves going on in her stomach. Eyebrows furrowed and her lip quivered in that familiar close to crying way, the way it got whenever she anticipated the worst.

 

Red hair, pale skin, but no wing hair ornaments. Red hair, pale skin, fair eyes staring at her, widening at her.

 

“Sumia?” That voice hadn’t changed, “It’s so good to see you.”

 

And there was sincerity in those words, she could tell. There was a fondness in her eyes, and a softness in her posture, and Sumia thought she had almost seen something more in everything.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like she had mistakenly done so before. Cordelia hadn’t changed. She hadn’t. And it was bittersweet to know that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> This chapter was so frustrating to write, and even now I'm not too happy with how it turned out. I can imagine that I'll revise this chapter often, but it is done! I really apologize, I had hoped to have been done with it by yesterday but time is never on my side it seems.
> 
> But Cordelia is here now!


	7. Love's Sorrow (Piano)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're going to kill me because of the length of this, and I won't stop you! But the next chapter will be longer, and definitely much different from these past chapters. Please look forward to it!
> 
> I always welcome questions regarding anything! Do you want to know anything? Progress on the next chapter, or maybe clues, hints, something? Just ask me at my tumblr consciousstate!
> 
> \-----we're going to be revisiting Sumia's playing soon, I promise!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Once again, I'm sorry!

 

  At times, Sumia wonders if there ever will be a day where everything will fall into place for her. The stars don't even have to align, they could stay where they are, but they just have to give her something. Something that wasn't this.

  This mess of circumstances was just not going to cut it. And she will admit that she did decide this for herself. But that didn't mean she had any control of the situation. At least that's what she kept repeating in her thoughts. Anything to justify this for herself.

  It's just, she couldn't let Cordelia and Severa off on their own trying to catch a cab home. Why Cordelia didn't have a car, well that she didn't know. The woman had a license (she was there when the then seventeen year-old had gotten it). But she couldn’t pry. She didn’t have that right. They weren’t the friends they used to be. They weren’t.

  Owain had been overjoyed to be able to spend more time with Severa, and though the girl had been bashful, she knew she too was happy about it. But now Owain was asleep, and Severa was struggling to keep her eyes open (maybe it was just pride or she didn’t trust a stranger with her mom).

  Cordelia had kept mum the entire ride, having had only said a soft thank you when Sumia had opened the door for her. But she could feel the other glancing at her constantly, like she was debating what to say or if she should say anything. Though, Sumia honestly was grateful the other was keeping quiet. She couldn’t find any words herself.

  It's been years, and in those years bitterness had come and gone, but the hurt she felt never strayed too far away. Her thoughts always kept it near, and her insecurities didn’t do anything to alleviate whatever distress her heart claimed.

“Sumia,” Naga please help her, “You didn’t have to do this. Severa and I have taken a cab home before, even at this hour.”

 

Breathe. Breathe. Now speak, form words and don’t stutter, “I wanted to do this.”

  Naga knows why, but it brought her discomfort knowing that she still felt the need to keep the other safe. If it was the self-guilt or if it was just wanting closure, it didn’t matter because here she was still caring about Cordelia. She always would, she admitted to herself with a sigh, one that did not go ignored.

“Sumia,” inhale, exhale, inhale, “I’m sorry.”

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, think, glance, think, glance, inhale, exhale, Naga, inhale, exhale, think, think, think, think, think, Naga, she can’t do this, pull over, no, keep going, Naga, think, say something, say something, speak, inhale, exhale, Naga, why her?

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

“I know.”

**  
  
**

 

 

 

 

 

Good job, she sarcastically thought to herself. All that hyperventilation just to say that. And the hurt that flashed through Cordelia’s eyes, she desperately tried to ignore. She imagined it, she did, if she says that to herself enough, she could believe it. But she can’t. Why is she hurt? She has no right. She can’t do this to her. She doesn’t get to do this to her, and yet here she is looking hurt and staring at Sumia, and expecting far too much.

 

 

-

 

 

“I won’t be long,” she didn’t meet those red eyes.

Carefully she picked up Owain, and adjusted Severa to a better sleeping position (in the end sleep won). She carried the blonde boy to the front door, ringing the doorbell. She waited no more than a few seconds before Lissa opened the door, a smile on her face.

“We were starting to get worried, since it’s past 9 already” she said, “But I’m just glad you’re safe. Maribelle’s in the kitchen, we were waiting for you both.”

She walked past the blonde, “I’m sorry. Owain had wanted to wait until Severa got picked up.”

“And well, her mom was running late,” she explained. Lissa paled. She did. The fidgeting her fingers were doing showed her that the other was dreading whatever she was going to say.

She didn’t say anything more, and Lissa didn’t prompt her to continue. She would tuck in Owain in and be on her way. And that she did, she ruffled his hair on her way out making sure to turn on his nightlight and leaving the door slightly ajar.

Bracing herself, she walked down the stairs. She had expected Lissa to be there waiting for her, and there she was, Maribelle watching them from the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about Owain being hungry, he ate the packed lunch I made him on the way here,” she looked at Lissa, “But I should get going. I have to drive Severa and her mom home.”

She laughed dryly, “Did you know Cordelia is her mom? I didn’t, and now I’m taking her home, because I can’t bring myself to not care about her.”

“Sumia, I didn’t know she would be there,” Lissa breathed out, “Usually someone else picks up Severa, and today was just not one of those days, Sumia, you-”

 

“ **You knew!**  You knew Cordelia was her mother, you knew! And you still let me go!” Her voice strained towards the end.

Maribelle stepped forward, "Sumia."

"I'm leaving." She brushed past the taller blonde.

No one followed after her, and Maribelle did not even call out to her. It was for the best, she could feel her anger manifesting itself in the way her nails were digging into her palms. She would not have been able to control herself had anything happened. Things said in anger would later become regrets, her mother always said.

She didn’t slam the door, Owain was sleeping after all, but she knew it still had been harsher than usual. However, she did slam her car door. She winced when Severa almost jolted awake and apologized to Cordelia, who only looked at her with concern.

“I promise you that I am a safe driver, the whole car door slamming was just out of frustration,” she bluntly stated.

Cordelia just nodded in response. And from then on Sumia noticed the other would no longer glance at her, and instead was content with staring out the window.

When she had been younger, Sumia had always wished to be able to hear the other’s thoughts. The other had always thought more fully than others, it was as if she could take everything in and make sense of it all as if it were any other thing. Cordelia had never been an open person and back then it had been hard to truly understand her.

Sure there had been moments where Sumia would have taken just one glance and known what was going on with her red haired friend (and those, embarrassingly, had been some of her proudest moments), but she did not truly get her. Maybe that was why they had clicked, or maybe not. She doesnt’t care anymore.

She did. She did care. She couldn’t lie about that, not even to herself.

**  
  
**

 

 

-

**  
  
**

 

 

Cordelia and Severa lived well into the city and honestly they had only taken so long because of the traffic that pooled into the heart of the city. Parking had been impossible to find (“I don’t mind walking, Sumia, I’ll be fine carrying Severa the rest of the way”), but through her stubbornness she found a spot. And even then, she had walked mother and child to their door (“You don’t have to carry Severa, I’ll do it” “No, you’re probably tired.” “And you probably are as well” “I’m going to carry her, whether you want it or not.”)

“Thank you for everything,” Cordelia said, “I can take Severa now.”

“It was no problem,” she quickly said.

She waited as Cordelia opened the door, but the other lingered in her movements, “Sumia.”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you stay the night? It’s already late and you’ve seen how terrible the traffic can get.”

“I can’t.”

“I insist, it would make me feel much better knowing that you’re safe and getting a reasonable amount of sleep.”

“I really can’t, Cordelia.”

 

And after that the other did not protest, letting her be on her way. There were unsaid words in the air. Had this been another time in her life, she would have bashfully agreed (and died from nervousness the moment she walked through that door), but she could not have agreed to that.

She had to look out for herself and her own feelings and ignore the hurt that lingered in Cordelia, and if that was selfish than that was what she had become. Even if it did tug at her heart knowing she was the source of the other’s discomfort, pain, or whatever.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

 

But Cordelia was the source hers.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

She woke up to herself on the floor, blanket haphazardly covering her and a crick in her neck. Somewhere in the night she fell, and through her tiredness did not wake up when she did. Her dreams were abstract filled with nonsensical things (a dog giving her life advice was probably an all time low for her dreaming self).

Yawning to herself, she checked the time and saw she had several voicemails from Stahl and Maribelle. Though she probably was justified in her actions toward Lissa, she could feel the guilt settling on her heart.

Lissa was good-natured, and she should have allowed the other to explain herself (but anger and good choices don’t mix). Maribelle had probably called to tell her off for her behavior, and well she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the other do so.

And Stahl's confused her, but they were friends so he probably had called to ask about helping out. Or maybe something had come up with him?

**  
  
**

“ _Sumia, is there any chance if we could move our lunch to tomorrow? And instead of lunch could it be dinner? Tomorrow is your day off, and well, I’m free in the morning so I’ll be coming over to help you with the room, so don’t get scared when someone knocks on your door at 10 am. in the morning, alright? Call me back when you can, or text me, whatever is best for you._ ”

“ _I don’t even know what to tell you right now. I understand you’re upset, angry even, with Lissa, but you had no right to not let her explain herself to you. I don’t know what possessed you to just barge in there, demanding answers and not waiting for them, but I waited a while to even call you, only to have you not answer. Sumia, knowing you, you’re probably somewhere cooling off, and I swear that if I have to pick you up from some jailhouse again, I’m going to personally call your mother about it again. Just talk to Lissa, you have to now. You have no choice, Lissa has a lot to tell you, and it’s better you hear it from her than from me. She really cares about you please under_ -”

Sighing she stopped the voicemail.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

 

 

 

She had regrets, countless of them, but her biggest one would be how she handled yesterday (ha, her mother was right again). Everyone wanted to talk to her now, tell her things, but she didn’t know if she wanted to hear them.

**  
  
**

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**


	8. Love's Sorrow (Violin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone out there please give me tips on writing Cordelia :"( I hope you all enjoy this chapter!  
> Frederick is not a bad guy, I promise I'll add more to him. (or maybe he is a bit)
> 
> We have answers about the past! At least from Cordelia's side that is.
> 
> And! The school year is starting soon, so updates will be monthly now at the very least, but if there is time it will be twice a month!

   At the age of thirteen, she first picked up the violin. She remembers it being like fireworks set off at the tips of her fingers, and her breath had been knocked out of her just from the mere amazement she had at its first note.

 

   She felt the same way when she first met Sumia.

 

   Sumia Beaulieu had been an enigma since their first meeting. The girl was amazing with the piano but yet she had been so overly humble no one would have ever guessed it. The girl was so proud to be able to play, so confident in her ability to play any rendition of Schubert that was asked of her.

 

   When she had first asked to hear the girl play, she swears to this day that stars had appeared in other's eyes and the light around them closed in on Sumia. A date was decided and Cordelia waited with growing anticipation until that day had arrived.

 

   Boldly Sumia guided her through the school halls and sneaked her into the back of the auditorium. She had blushed then because there had been rumors of the area being a known makeout place, and honestly in those days she had thought about kissing her friend more than she had ever thought of Chrom (but Sumia had never known). But the blush went away when Sumia excitedly showed her the grand piano hiding behind some curtains.

 

“Any requests?” Sumia had asked.

 

   Cordelia had nothing, she wasn’t all that familiar with specific piano pieces. Sumia had laughed in her soft way and motioned for the other to sit by her.

 

   She had played Kreisler’s Love’s Sorrow, Cordelia had learned that several years later. The younger girl had a grace trapped in her hands, and Cordelia felt honored to be this close watching her play.

 

“You know, we could play this together one day, if you would want to,” the words had rushed out in a shy way, “There’s a version of it, where the violin and piano play it together….And there is no other violin I would want to play this with.”

 

   They had never gotten the chance. Sumia began participating in more competitions, and she did more violin ones. But even through that, she remembers all the nights spent over at the Beaulieu house, their friendship strong and hearty able to withstand all. Or so she had thought.

 

   Chrom and her begun dating towards the end of her second year, and she began seeing Sumia less and less. It was rare to get the other to speak to her for more than some measly awkward minutes.

 

   Then the two broke up, and for weeks Sumia and her had resumed to their own routines. Sumia would bring her lunch, and Cordelia would wait for her after school. They would walk home, and nervously Cordelia would bite down the want to take the other in her arms and kiss her silly (it grew more difficult each day).

 

   But then Frederick happened. Frederick with his need to win, with his need to be triumphant always, with his need to see Sumia lose. And Cordelia had helped him do that, she realized that when Sumia had looked at her last week, eyes heavy with hurt.

 

   She had helped him take something away from her, what that something was she could not imagine (lest she’d be too wishful, too hopeful).

 

   Having Sumia in her life was fulfilling, but without Sumia her life felt not quite right. She did not regret the decisions she made, regret would not make everything right (and without those decisions Severa would not be in her life as she is now). She regretted instead all the missed opportunities.

 

   She dreamed often about what could have been, and she dreamed often of the amount of smiles she could have had if she had been wiser, if she had been less afraid. But often those dreams ended with the reality that was now with Sumia far away from her in all ways.

 

   Waking up to Stahl hovering over her was one way to start her morning, and the screaming that followed was only heard by Severa (thankfully).

 

“Good morning, I’m sorry for scaring you, but Severa insisted I woke you up. We made breakfast, and this time I promise we didn’t leave a mess,” he smiled, “And she only made the toast, she was nowhere near the stove.”

 

“You’re really lucky I didn’t hit you!” she growled.

 

He shrugged sheepishly, “I’m sorry for coming this early, but I have to talk to you about a lot, and you’re only ever free in the morning, so here I am.”

 

She sighed, “Just let me get changed, and I’ll be down soon enough so we can have that talk.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

   Severa proudly smiled when Cordelia thanked her for the breakfast, and then pouted when it was followed by a ruffling of her hair. Uncle Stahl had already done that twice already, and she could only fix her hair so many times.

 

   Cordelia sat next to Severa at their kitchen table, stacking pancakes and fruit on her daughter’s plate. She filled her own plate with toast (“Pancakes are overrated”), and she shared a laugh with Severa when Stahl dropped some syrup on his shirt.

 

“Severa, what kind of cake are you getting for your birthday?” Stahl asked in between bites.

 

The five year old smiled at his question, “Red Velvet!”

 

Stahl turned to Cordelia, “Where are you getting the cake from? I hope it’s from that bakery where you got that chocolate cake from!”

 

“Frederick said he would take care of it, so here’s to hoping it’s from a good place,” she offered a wry smile.

 

Stahl frowned, “I’ll make sure of it, but in case he messes that up, we should get like a back-up cake.”

 

“Daddy won’t mess up, would he?” Severa asked with a pout.

 

Cordelia exchanged looks with Stahl before replying, “Sev, if he does, I’ll fix it okay?”

 

The girl nodded slowly, “Is Lucina coming? And Owain?”

 

“Of course Lucina is coming, I made sure to send her the best invitation. And Owain, we’ll see, okay?” Cordelia smiled.

 

   They finished the rest of their breakfast with Severa telling Stahl all about her birthday party that was coming up soon. The theme was fairy-tales (“I picked it out myself!”), and Severa would a valiant knight and if Owain came he could be one too (“He has his own cape.”)   
  


“Severa, do you think I could talk to your mom about something alone?” Stahl quietly asked.

 

   The girl looked at him curiously, but agreed nonetheless. Cordelia kissed her forehead, before letting her go off to watch cartoons.

 

“I told her everything,” Stahl said, “She took it surprisingly well, but I’m worried.”

 

“Sumia is never going to truly tell you how she feels, that’s who she has always been. What makes you worried?” She stirred her coffee.

 

He sighed deeply, “She was so upset with Lissa about not telling her about you, but she wasn’t with me.”

 

“Well what did you tell her?”

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

 

_“Sumia, I haven’t been honest with you.”_

_“With the way that you have been acting I had imagined you would say something like that.”_

 

_“Really? Well, then you have seen through my ways I guess. But Sumia, just know I did not do this to hurt you, you know keeping things from you.”_

_“Stahl, honestly I have heard that line so many times this year alone, but you sound sincere. I feel compelled to believe you.”_

_“I’m sure everyone else who has said it has been sincere. Sumia, Cordelia is one of my closest friends, and I’ve known her far longer than I’ve known you. She was the one who told me to search for your performances, and I knew it wouldn’t been long before you both met again. I am the one who usually picks up Severa from her dance classes, and I’ve known Lissa for awhile because of that. I knew eventually they would ask you the favor of picking up Owain, and I knew that for whatever reason I would not be able to pick up Severa. Life seems to just work out like that.”_

_“...”_

 

 _He too her silence as a prompt to continue. And so he did, swallowing down any nervousness he held in his words._  

 

_“Cordelia and I met at a family gathering, Frederick’s family gathering, because for whatever reason I in some weird way am related to him. I think we're half cousins? But that's way off topic so...let me get back to the topic on hand..."_

_Maybe Cordelia would later kill him for just exposing her like this in front of Sumia._

 

_"She looked so miserable, so I sauntered over and cracked a joke hoping to make her smile. I failed, and she laughed at my pout instead. And we hit it off, we made fun of everyone in that stuffy party. She had been unhappy even then, and now well, they’re in the midst of a divorce. Honestly, I feel like their marriage should have never happened. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, I’m not sure. But you probably heard from Olivia already, you know, that to Frederick the piano takes priority over everything, including Severa and he always messes up, so yeah that’s a thing between them, and honestly I’m sorry for just telling this all to you, but once I start it’s kinda hard to stop so please shut me up now before I tell you all the embarrassing things people have told me over the years-”_

_“How does Severa feel about all of that?”_

-

 

“And then what?” She urged him on.

 

He shrugged, “She didn’t let me answer, and I had nothing else to say. We ate our dinner, then she went home.”

 

“That’s it? That’s...I can see why you’re worried,” she walked away from him, setting their dishes in the sink, “Your impression of Sumia is not flattering by the way, don’t let her hear you do that.”

 

“Really? Well, I tried to get my pitch up there, but I guess that didn't work out."

 

"Stick to yourself," she jabbed playfully, "But just give her time and space. Let her come to you at her own terms."

 

"But, I just want her to be okay,"

 

"But if she isn't, you would still love her all the same, or no? Her not being okay, her being okay, that changes always."

 

   And she had seen that. Sumia had been unpredictable during their car ride, a soft small quickly turned to one full of grimace, words that started sincere ended in politeness.

 

“Well, you got a point,” he scratched the back of his neck.

 

“Sumia is a whole conversation that we should have another day, though you probably want to know absolutely everything regarding who she was before your fated encounter with her in the music shop. She’s a story, and though I got to read that story before you, I make as much sense of it as you do. There are pages of her that I wish I had gotten the chance to see before they were ripped out of her, and now I only have that regret to remind me of it.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

   Stahl left probably with more questions than he had ever had, but she had no answers to give. Sumia held them, and she held them tightly to herself. Cordelia wonders that had she known Sumia better then, would she have now understood her?

 

   But wonders don’t do much but make her nostalgic.

 

“Mommy, is Daddy going to invite his boring piano friends?” Severa asked quietly.

 

She nodded, “But it’ll be okay, you won’t have to talk to them, okay? You just play with your friends and leave them to me, I’ll take care of them.”

 

“Why do they have to come?”

 

“Because your dad wants them to,” Severa pouted at her the moment the words left her.

 

   Together they finished the guest list, with Severa dutifully reading the numbers off to her and Cordelia making the calls. They wrote down the names of people that were for sure coming and everyone else was for the moment kept out of that list. They made sure to leave as little room as possible, making it so Frederick wouldn't be able to invite too many of his "friends".

 

   She wasn't sure if even he would call them friends, if anything they were all just ways for him to network and get his name further out there. Usually that led to him showing off Severa, and the girl getting annoyed with having to spend time in a boring environment with adults that were uninterested with her. They came to those functions for her father. Not ever her.

 

   When they finished, Severa paid her no more attention. The cartoons on the tv apparently were more important than her (maybe if she dressed up as Wonder Woman Severa's attention would always be on her). It was late into the afternoon and yet she had nothing to occupy her day off.

 

   Cordelia had to be content with reading through some medical files to pass the time. However, she soon heard knocking coming from the door (she really needed to get Vaike to fix that doorbell).

 

   Severa's interest piqued and almost followed her to the door, but Cordelia had insisted on her staying put in the living room.

 

Walking to the door she hesitantly opened it. A blonde blur tried to rush past her, only to be held back by the hem of his shirt, "Owain! It's rude to just run into someone's house!"

 

Today it seems is one to be filled with visitors and conversations that would drain her. Hopefully this one would be more enlightening to her, or maybe she'd have more answers to give this time around.

 

The pout he gave melted Cordelia's heart, "But Mommy, Severa's in there!"

 

She felt awkward as Lissa waved at her, "I asked Stahl for your address."

 

"I figured, come in, Owain seems to be about ready to burst," she gently smiled.

 

Owain raced past them, and his calls for Severa could probably be heard by their neighbors ("Owain, you don't have to be so loud indoors.") Her daughter met the boy halfway and excitedly greeted him.

 

"I would have called, but, well I don't have your number," the blonde looked around her apartment, "Your home is really nice and much more homier than that house you both used to live in."

 

“A failed marriage kind of just does that to places,” she joked, “It was more Frederick’s than it ever was ours. It was too much.”

 

   Lissa nodded in a way that reminded her of her mother, and the conversation almost ended there. There was tension between them, Cordelia could always sense it. Lissa was not supposed to be talking to her, was not supposed to be liking her, because Lissa was Sumia’s friend’s wife.

 

   Cordelia hugged herself, and something lit up in Lissa’s eyes when she did that. She didn’t know what, but it seemed like now boldness was clogged up in the smaller woman. The way her fists were tightening, as if she was bracing herself for whatever may come from the decisions she made (or maybe she was here to punch her in the face, she honestly hoped that wasn’t it).

 

“Cordelia, I came to talk to you,” there was that commanding tone she used with Owain.

 

“Severa, how about you go show Owain your room?” She smiled at the way the two went off without even answering her.

 

Gray tones met her deep red ones, “Cordelia, I am going to be here for you. I decided that this morning and Maribelle knows, so don’t think that I’m hiding you or anything. I want to be your friend.”

 

“Thank you for that, honestly.”  
  


   And sincerely she felt grateful, because Naga knows she needs the support. It’s always been just Stahl trying his best, and there was Severa whose attempts she loved the most (homemade cards always tugged at her heartstrings).

 

   Frederick never had to worry about that when their divorce was announced. The media may not know, but if they did they would hound at her for ruining the image the brown haired man created for them (“Prodigal daughter and wife that is beyond beautiful” was one of the better headlines). His family would surely be on his side, and so would hers, because their image was everything to them.

 

   She had accepted that, however, and knew if she were to tell them now who it was she truly wanted everything with, they would gasp in horror and demand her to do otherwise. But her heart had been kept waiting for too long, and it had been so hard to try to pretend there was still something there Frederick.

 

“Sumia is going to be okay, because you know, she has Maribelle and all of them. But the other night I was kept awake just worried about you, because I’ve seen how they treat you at those parties, those stupid ones Chrom makes me go to where everyone is lamenting your pending divorce and trying to convince you that you’re making a mistake,” her brows furrowed more deeply.

 

“You don’t have to be kept up by me, you know? I hate those parties just as much as you, but I’ve gotten used to them and have grown too tired to feel upset over them.”

 

Lissa sighed deeply, “But you’re not supposed to be used to it.”

 

“And if I am, is that so bad? Lissa, I thank you for worrying about me, but you don’t have to. I’ve grown tough skin when it comes to them, and it warms my heart to know that I now at least have one more person who stands by me, but I don’t want to be source of burden for you.”

 

“You won’t be, I can assure you,” the blonde’s tone was short, “Cordelia, I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself, I saw you doing so when we were all growing up. so don’t think I’m viewing you as someone who needs protecting.”

 

She laughed lightly, “You sounded like a serious mother giving her daughter a stern-talking to, now I know why Owain is so well-behaved.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“I know.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

   Lissa, she found, was a beyond wonderful cook. In her anxiousness, she had asked Cordelia to just please allow her to do something, just to clear her mind. It was nowhere near their regular dinner time, but Cordelia had shown her where everything was (and she didn’t question her about it at all).

 

   She watched as the blonde cooked with ease, she watched as the blonde's stiffness settled and her posture returned to a more friendly one. She wanted to be able to hear what the other was thinking (she had always wished that as a superpower growing up, maybe it would have helped her understand people).

 

“When’s Severa’s birthday party?”

 

“How-”

 

“Stahl told me about that too,” the blonde stopped cutting vegetables for a minute, “And I saw the invitations.”

 

“Two weeks from now, we’re celebrating it really early this year but it’s her grandparent’s wishes, since Severa will be staying with me for the holidays and her actual birthday. I was planning on inviting you, but I wasn’t sure if I could.”

 

“Owain would hate me forever if he wasn’t able to go to Severa’s birthday,” Lissa explained, “And I would love to come, I could help you set up and even get Gaius to make some sweets too.”

 

“Are you sure that would be okay with-”

 

Lissa didn’t even let her finish, “Maribelle will have no problem with it, and if she does, she has to answer to me. And Sumia, she has no choice, I’m going to make her come, she has nothing else to do on that day anyway.”

 

Cordelia shook her head, “I don’t want Sumia to be forced to go somewhere or be somewhere where she does not want to be.”

 

“Cordelia, Sumia is going to say yes to coming without much of anything from me. She cares about you, that she can’t deny me that either.”

 

“Don’t give me hope,” she mumbled more to herself than to Lissa.

 

   The other woman’s features softened, and she hated to think it was out of pity. She was strong and capable (years of raising Severa showed that), and pity was not welcomed. Frankly, she had quite enough of it already. But the better part of her knew that Lissa was not pitying her but rather just showing concern.

 

   But the one she wanted that look from, that look of genuine care, was Sumia. Sumia who looked at her with those pained eyes and offered her polite smiles now. She wasn’t the Sumia from her schooldays, but she was Sumia.

 

   And Naga did she want her comfort.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But Sumia did not want hers. She did not want her. 


	9. Op. 25, No. 5 ''Wrong Note'' 1/2

  A day after her last performance she laid in bed for most of the day. Her sheet music had been thrown across her room, and there she had been at the center of it all. Just existing but making no effort to live.

 

  And she wonders if she had been a stronger person would she have gotten up that day. Gaius had been sympathetic, telling her softly that he doubted anyone would have just recovered that quickly.

 

  Frederick might have, she had bitterly thought then.

 

  But this. This she could agree with Gaius about. No one could recover from this unnerving stare.

 

  Lissa stared down at her intensely. How her eyes could be full of disappointment and understanding all at once, Sumia could only hope to one day understand.

 

“Sumia.”

 

  Either Sumia would need to bolt out the door, or she would need to stay strong for this. Here was Lissa standing before her. Maribelle had already blown up her phone demanding apologies, but this was a different intimidation. This was making it hard to breathe. To be. To function.

 

  Guilt had found a home in her after their argument (Sumia still didn’t even know if that could be counted as that). Rest was hard to find. Will was too. Every time she had gathered enough courage to dial the blonde’s number, in the same second she would quickly hang up.

 

“You’re a coward.”

 

  Her grip on the doorknob tightened.

 

 

 

 

That hurt.

 

 

 

 

“I’m coming inside, even if you’d rather me gone right now. If everyone else would rather just beat around bushes, then so be it, but I won’t be continuing to do so. Not when you are the cause of someone else’s pain,” Lissa mumbled.

 

Sumia was pushed aside, “Alright.”

 

  Now she felt self-conscious of the state of her home. Furniture was still not in place and she was sure the place reeked of paint and probably of her own shame.

 

“Have you eaten?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you want to? I’ll make something.”

 

“Not really, I’d rather you talk to me without a knife in your hand.”

 

  Lissa furrowed her eyebrows in a way that a mother would. Whereas parenthood hardened Maribelle, it softened Lissa. Owain followed Maribelle obediently, but turned to Lissa for comfort. It had been hard for Maribelle to know and see, but the older woman understood that had been how things had worked out in the end.

 

  Sumia wonders if Lissa ever wanted to be the strict parent. She wonders if that’s what Lissa was being now. What was she to expect? She was not used to this tone, not to this Lissa.

 

“I’m not here to yell at you about the other day, I’m over that. I understand why you got upset, trust me Maribelle has done more than enough explaining on your behalf.”

 

Sumia was motioned to take a seat at the kitchen isle, “You can’t speak until I’m finished.”

 

  What else was she to do but nod at her? She could not escape. So she sat there obediently and anxiously.

 

She noticed that Lissa did not take a seat, and instead moved away from her. The small blonde inspected every corner of the room before loudly sighing.

 

“Honestly, whenever we visit you I feel like I’m being suffocated by how...sad this all is.”

 

 

 

Ouch.

 

 

 

“And I’m tired of how you are now. This is not the Sumia Beaulieu you have to be, do you know that? You're not some tragic artist that needs to repent years of lost talent.”

 

 

 

Stop.

 

 

 

“You can't play anymore, so what? You never let the piano define you before, and now it has to? Why? Where is this coming from?”

 

 

 

Stop. Grip against stool tightened.

 

 

 

“And the others just let you be. They see that you’re being destructive against your character and yet they just stand by and allow you to do these things to yourself. I was so happy when you told us you were working on that piano room, I knew things were starting to change for the better for you.”

 

 

 

Stop. That’s hurtful.

 

 

 

“But Cordelia stumbles upon your life, which we all expected, and now here you are once again in that mindset. It’s frustrating to see you act like **this**.”

 

 

 

“Stop.”

 

 

 

“No. You’re going to listen. You have to at some point get sick of feeling sorry for yourself. This is not progress this is regression! The others may feel content with avoiding talking about everything and you coming together on your own terms, but I can't stand it anymore. I can't. I feel like I'm always hiding something from you, and that's not an honest friendship. Not a good one either.”

 

She paused, “Your pace is too slow nowadays, you've grown complacent with how things have been and you haven't gotten better, not if everything is still as painful as they are. This is not needing time to yourself, this is you being the coward you've always been when it comes to hard things.”

 

Sumia pushed herself off the stool, “You don't have a right to tell me those things.”

 

“Yes I do!” Lissa narrowed her eyes, “You have to eventually learn that you can still face things and still be a coward, just by how you approach them.”

 

“I’m not a coward. I’m pathetic and a loser but not a coward,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

Lissa scoffed in a manner all too similar to Maribelle, “Then why are you acting like this?”

 

“Because this is just how I am! I don't need to explain that, not to you, not to anyone.”

 

Lissa stood clearly not bothered by her harsh tone, “It’s not that you don't need to, it’s that you don't want to.”

 

And with that, Sumia stood up harshly from her seat, “Then by all means tell me what I should be doing?”

 

“Do you honestly think everything is all that easy? I just tell you the way to do things and all will be resolved? Honestly?”

 

“Well everything else I've been doing has been wrong according to you!”

 

“Do you know how many times you could have saved yourself so much trouble if only you knew how to communicate?”

 

“We can't all be such good talkers like you, Lissa, you know since you do much of it!”

 

  She needed to calm down. Her hands were shaking in that blood boiling way and if she kept talking she was just going to get more hurtful. Why couldn't Lissa understand that she was just as frustrated with herself as the others have been?

 

“If you just would have talked things out with Cordelia-”

 

“I did. She choose Frederick. She married him and had a child with him. That's such a great example, please go on.”

 

“Before Frederick, there was Chrom and Cordelia. You avoided her for weeks! She cried to Chrom all the time, to me even! But then they broke up and all was good, but you could tell she was hurt by how dismissive you were about it. You never talked to her, how could she feel confident then in returning your feelings?”

 

“Stop, that’s not relevant anymore.”

 

  But it was. The more she thought of all the unsaid words and questions left unasked, the more she got too hopeful. It was not a positive situation, not now, not when she can feel her heart no longer wanting to tug in Cordelia’s direction.

 

“It is! You are obviously still affected by it, you can just tell by the way you’re acting now!”

 

“Lissa, what is the point of this?”

 

  Perhaps the other woman expected a stronger fight in her; her question seemed to have unsettled the woman. Lissa collected herself, however, and she seemed to mull over the question.

 

“I want you to come with me to her daughter's birthday party. You'll be driving and I expect you to do all as I say when the time comes for it.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“If I’m honest I expected more angst from you, but seeing you agree so easily brings me much relief. I don't like confrontation, you know that.”

 

Sumia nodded, “I don't always understand your intentions, but I’ll take your words to heart.”

 

“It’s not about taking them to your heart, it’s about you doing something with them.”

 

  And so they both relaxed. Sumia felt the tension in her veins dissipate and felt that it had gotten easier to breathe.

 

 

 

\--------

 

 

 

  The party had landed on her father’s birthday, but Severa’s birthday wasn't the same day. Lissa had explained that the date had been a compromise of sorts between Cordelia and both sets of grandparents. But was this a coincidence? The same day that he had passed, she painfully reminisced. 

 

  Sumia did not give excuses though; she felt going to the party would help ease her mother’s worry. And honestly Lissa had already shown she was not letting her get away.

 

  From phone calls to text message reminders, Sumia got a reminder at least three times a day about the party. At first it was bearable, but then she found it easier to keep her phone on silent. Then she would check her phone to find messages with passive-aggressive tones about her replying late. She couldn't win.

 

  Gaius sat idly in back seat, she could see him fiddling with the cake in his lap through the rear-view mirror. He loudly complained about his cake being a just-in-case sort of cake when they had picked him up (“You get to eat it if Cordelia doesn't need it” “I eat enough cake.”) Had he been a peace offering from Lissa? His company would honestly make this all the more bearable. 

 

“Sooo, let’s talk presents,” Gaius offered lamely from the backseat.

 

  They were on their way. Not too early but not too late. Sumia hated driving Maribelle’s expensive company car, but it was the only way to make the dynamic blonde duo content (“I need to make sure you're not going to drop off Lissa in some woods.” "You really think I'd do that?" "I can't take chances.")

 

“Mari did the shopping and the wrapping, so Owain and I have no clue what's in that box back there,” Lissa sighed, “What about you, Sumia?”

 

“Owain mentioned she liked Legos, but that Frederick never let her get any,” Sumia replied.

 

Gaius let out an exasperated sigh, “Let the kid play with whatever toys she wants. I got her a Nerf Gun, so I can't wait to see that bastard’s reaction.”

 

“Gaius!”

 

“The kid’s asleep back here!”

 

  Sumia had to stifle her laughing, because honestly she could not handle Lissa in full on “Don’t corrupt my child please” mode. Gaius had his slip ups here and there, but he's proven to be a good uncle. She likes to think that if her own uncle had been able to bake, she would have found him more charming.

 

“You’re lucky Owain's knocked out like a light, Gaius! He’s at that age where he mimics everything! Let us not forget when he overheard you at New Year’s,” Lissa frowned back at him for good measure.

 

“I stepped on one of his toys! Those things hurt, and I thought we agreed not to bring it up again. I already apologized through cake and chores, let me live woman.”

 

“I don’t think we ever said we would let it go,” Sumia chimed, “Maribelle certainly hasn’t.”

 

“Maribelle still hasn’t let Cherche sabotaging her prom queen campaign go! How about that, hmm? Let’s talk about Maribelle’s problem with letting things go instead.”

 

“Or we could talk about your insistence on adding sugar to everything,” Sumia could have sworn she heard Lissa growl the words out.

 

“Sorry, I forgot that you're married to her.”

 

“How do you forget that?!”

 

“Just messing with you,” he cheekily said.

 

 

  

-

 

 

 

  Was this Severa’s birthday party or was this a meeting of old men in suits?

 

“Talk about a Debbie Downer sort of party,” Gaius grimaced at the guests before them.

 

  No doubt Frederick had been in charge of the guests list. Perhaps he was even in charge of just about everything; the food bar didn't have any crumbs and no wrinkles lined table cloths. Everything was too mature, honestly she doubted Severa would pick a white and maroon color theme for herself.

 

Lissa frowned, holding the still sleeping Owain to her, “I don't see any kids.”

 

  If there were any younger than them, they were in their teens obviously forced by their parents to come. None of them seemed even remotely close to Severa’s age, and where the birthday girl was who knew but Sumia guessed she probably wasn’t enjoying herself at all.

 

  If it was her Sumia would have just left, but she guesses six year-old's (well soon to be seven) don’t have much of a choice.

 

“Lissa, I really have to thank you for suggesting that I get a back up cake,” that voice, “Frederick got a dark chocolate cake, honestly does he ever stop to think about his daughter for once? I'd like to know what he thinks about instead.”

 

They turned around to see  _her_ coming towards them, displeasure visible on her face.

 

Gaius stopped in his tracks, “Cordelia, it’s nice to see you. I got your cake, red velvet as ordered by your little monster.”

 

 

 

She looks beautiful.

 

 

 

“Gaius still charming as ever, I see." Cordelia laughed lightly, "I’ll take this to the kitchen, and it’s nice to see you here Sumia.”

 

“I’m glad to be here.”

 

  Sumia followed her words with a small smile. She hoped that would show Cordelia she meant it.

 

“That’s good. Alright, Lissa I’ll trust you'll know where your seats are. Severa has been waiting for Owain desperately, I’m afraid she’ll wake him up herself.”

 

  As luck would have it, or by Lissa’s hand really they were sitting at the main table. No long after they arrived to their table did Owain wake up. Startled as he was, he quickly excited himself out of his stupor. He would have bolted from his mother’s arms, but the death grip she had on him was unbreakable.

 

“Uncle! Help!” Owain wiggled around in a desperate struggle to escape.

 

Gaius shook his head, “Can’t help you this time, kid.”

 

When those big eyes landed on her, Sumia could only offer a wary smile and a soft “I’m sorry.”

 

He dejectedly slumped against his mother with his lips pursed in a pouty manner, “But Severa-”

 

“But Severa will come by and then you can go off and play. Right now though, you need to stay here.”

 

  It took ten minutes for Cordelia to make her way to them. The other woman stifled a gasp, and it was then that Sumia would notice finally who she would be sitting next to for the rest of the evening. Naga have mercy on her just this once.

 

  It was too late to switch seats. Gaius almost offered, but Lissa quickly silenced that with a swift jab to his ribs. Cordelia took her seat hesitantly; there was a soft red on her cheeks (she paid too much attention not to notice that).

 

  Shyly Cordelia started off easy conversation with the others. She sympathized with Owain’s woes, laughed at Gaius’s commentary, and shared knowing smiles with Lissa. But none of that happened between them. It had been her fault so she had no reason to be expecting much else but this reserved woman beside her.

 

“Cordelia, where’s Severa? Mr. Takeshi wanted to personally wish her a happy birthday.”

 

The air immediately tensed, and Sumia noticed the way hands clenched and unclenched themselves next to her.

 

“I haven’t been able to find her.”

 

“I can’t understand why she ran off earlier,” the deep sigh resonated loudly, “I do have to apologize Mr. Takeshi, I’ll make sure she’ll find her way to you before you need to leave.”

 

“There is no need for apologies, Mr. Durer. But you did not tell me earlier that Ms. Beaulieu would also be here,” the older man adjusted his glasses in greeting.

 

  Sumia felt obligated to rise from her seat, and shake his hand firmly. Mr. Takeshi and Sumia knew each other far too well. He had been the first composer to take honest interest in her playing abilities back during her high school years. He went on to write a personal piece for her, a graduation gift for her ("I wrote it with you in mind, and because of that I feel only you do it justice.")

 

  He had been a generous man, she remembers that the most. A father figure in their line of work, but Sumia had seen him as just an older friend most of the time. Not in that they gossiped or had lunches together, but as in they shared similar interests and love for music sheets.

 

“Ah. Actually, Mr. Takeshi, even I did not know she would be here. She must be Cordelia’s...guest,” Frederick remained polite.

 

“Well then this is a good surprise for the both of us. Might you all mind if I take a seat here for a little while?”

 

  Even if he had asked for one, he did not wait for an answer. He simply took a seat across from Sumia, with a confused Frederick quickly taking the chair beside the old composer.

 

“Mr. Takeshi, I would be humbled to take you to your seat over by Severa’s grandparents.”

 

“Do take this lightly, but I do not think I am old enough yet to stomach sitting with them,” he joked, “And Ms. Beaulieu I haven’t seen in years! She has eluded me long enough.”

 

  It was a personal victory to have herself chosen over Frederick the all-charming. Never did she consider herself to be as great a conversationalist as the man; it was an awkward practice for her.

 

“I’m sorry for not returning your phone calls,” she lamented.

 

He waved off her statement, “I do understand why. If the rumors hold any truth, then know those phone calls were more about your well being than your performance.”

 

Frederick turned to look at her, before returning his attention to the composer. “Might I interest you in some wine?”

 

“I’ll go fetch a bottle,” Cordelia hurriedly remarked.

 

Even if Mr. Takeshi hadn’t said yes, Sumia knows Cordelia would have still left. She had been itching for an escape herself. Still blunt as ever was this old man, and not even a joke from Gaius would ease matters at this point.

 

“Tell me are the rumors true?”

 

She looked away, “They are.”

 

“I see. You can’t hear the notes at all?” Mr. Takeshi held a steady gaze on her. She could feel the weight of it on her, and she knows that Lissa and Gaius were looking on with some type of worry etched on their faces. A question like that isn’t going to break her, surely they know that.

 

  Sure, her heart still ached at having to admit it, but she was past the bursting into tears at the mention of it. Here she had a moment to prove to Lissa she was not a coward. She would be facing this head on. No running, no avoiding, no crumbling, no hesitation. Just honest answers.

 

“No. At first I do, but then not anymore. But Mr. Takeshi, this is old news and not nearly as interesting as the work you’ve been doing recently,” she smiled at him.

 

Lissa stepped in, “I do believe I’ve heard my wife saying she loves your work!”

 

“You humble me, honestly you do,” he glowed in praise, “but you must be friends of Ms. Beaulieu’s, I used to see you both often at her performances.”

 

“Yup, I was always the one carrying the cake box,” Gaius said.

 

  But before Sumia could consider herself safe, Frederick took the reins of the conversation. If the twitch of his jaw gave any indication of his true feelings, then this was going to be a tiring night.

 

“Mr. Takeshi, I believe you had more to say regarding Ms. Beaulieu.”

 

Stiff shoulders rolled back, “Yes, but always a humble player has she been. Never could take a compliment without turning attention away, now could you Ms. Beaulieu.”

 

“It had just been so embarrassing to receive good wishes by someone so esteemed. I never felt as though any of my performances were any good when you were in the audience. By Naga’s wishes did I want to impress you.”

 

“Enough with that. I to this day have argued in your favor, I really do believe you are by far the greatest player this world has seen! No offense to you, Mr. Durer, but Ms. Beaulieu has this-this, why I can’t find the words for it,” that must have struck a nerve in Frederick.

 

“But I don’t think I have seen her play in years,” Frederick mentioned.

 

“She must be preparing for a performance worthy of her comeback! I do not think notes being lost on your ears as a setback, and hopefully you feel the same when it happened,” he said simply, “I can only imagine what it must have been like to fall in love with all of Chopin’s pieces all over again.”

 

  She hesitated (Damn, this was difficult). However, Cordelia's return bought her time. Red wine bottle in hand and an uneasy smile on her. And if the twin tails were any indication, then the birthday girl finally made her appearance.

 

  Cutely was she dressed and well done was her hair, but the girl’s eyes were far sadder than even Sumia's own at her worst days. She clutched at her mother’s leg and refused to look up when Owain yelled out to her. An immediate red flag, but apparently it was one Frederick would choose to ignore.

 

“Here is your wine, Mr. Takeshi, and I’ve found the birthday girl for you. She’s feeling a bit sick, I’m afraid.”

 

“I don’t blame her, I’d be too if I was surrounded by so many people close to death,“ Gaius mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

 

Mr. Takeshi let out a hearty laugh, “I agree.”

 

  Gears were turning in Frederick’s growing frustrated head, anyone could tell at this point. Cordelia certainly tensed at the obvious fault of the party around them.

 

“Severa, is it?” The girl offered a timid nod, “I promise you the gifts will make this old drag worth it.”

 

  She gave a small smile, but still it did not reach her eyes. Sumia desperately wanted to offer the girl some candy or whatever to brighten some part of her day up.

 

  Once Cordelia sat, Severa quickly took refuge in her mother. Frederick looking on with a hint of distaste (hopefully at the state his daughter was in and not at the behavior). The girl buried herself in her mother, almost cocooning herself in the simple cardigan her mother had on. Sumia had enough sense that the presents would not make this day any better; half those presents would be not worth a child’s play.

 

“Before I lose my thought once more,” honestly Naga, “You must tell me what you have in store, Ms. Beaulieu.”

 

“I don’t play anymore.”

 

“I can’t see why not,” Mr. Takeshi furrowed his brows.

 

Sumia sighed, “I don’t have it in me to do so anymore. It’s an upsetting topic, and I much rather move on from this.”

 

“She has not played in a competition in years, so I wonder why you still asked, Mr. Takeshi,” Frederick showed genuine interest.

 

“I had a thought, however naive that it was, that Ms. Beaulieu would tell me otherwise. That the hiatus was no indication of her giving up.”

 

  Giving up? Has no one else seen this as the difficult obstacle that it was? If it was one worth overcoming, than she would have done so already. But it’s not. It’s just the piano.

 

 

 

 

Just the piano and its pieces.

 

 

-

 

 

Mr. Takeshi had left the party with little fuss. He had apologized in her ear briefly in his goodbye hug. Offering the man a handshake, he loudly proclaimed to Frederick his “deepest apologies” for having to leave so early. But if Sumia had the choice, she would be doing the same. She could be in her bed, thinking about her father and his favorite piano that still rested in her childhood home.

 

“Severa, dear, I know you’re not feeling well, but we need go and greet all your guests.”

 

However muffled it was, everyone could understand the soft “I don’t want to.”

 

“Frederick, she can do that later,” Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him.

 

  Silence filled the air after. An edge in her voice and a permanent glare towards Frederick; Cordelia was acting in Severa’s favor. Or not even that, Cordelia simply could not stand Frederick’s behavior towards their daughter. A birthday party she had planned, that Severa had planned, was not this.

 

  Back in their younger years, Sumia would pay more than enough to see Cordelia enraged with the then brown haired boy. Now seeing this she was too happy to have not been there. When the first talks of divorce had come about, had they fought loudly with each other? Had they fought after Severa had gone to bed?

 

  Frederick was strong in the traditional sense with his tailored suits and checkered ties. While Cordelia was strong in a intense and perfect and motivated (bias might have played a role in that description, she admits) sort of sense. And when such strong individuals are at odds against each other terrifying battled are to be witnessed..

 

  Once Gaius explained to her that it was a dominance thing; whoever was left standing had the last say, had the stronger word. After seeing Lon’qu and Maribelle harshly arguing with each other, she had gained a level of understanding. When one is used to always being on top, being the leader, it was difficult to just stand by and be led by someone else.

 

“I do not see why she can’t do so now.”

 

“She’s not feeling well.”

 

“I’m not making her do anything difficult.”

 

“And what does that matter to her? She doesn’t like being shown off.”

 

“I am proud of her, and is it not normal for a father to want to share that with his peers?”

 

“She’s never liked that though. Let it go, Frederick, if she wants to stay with me here than let her be.”

 

  Gaius and Lissa looked on feeling just as awkward as she did. The three shared uneasy looks, with Lissa showing obvious concern towards Cordelia. Owain, settled in his mother’s arms, looked rather distressed at the whole situation. Sumia could hear the soft sniffles coming from Severa, and it wouldn’t too far fetched if Owain could hear them as well.

 

“I see,” he sipped at his wine, “Having Sumia here is making you brave, is it now? Are you feeling more sure of yourself having her by your side?”

 

  Now that she was not expecting. Cordelia’s glare turned angrier in tone; there was going to be hellish intent in her next words.

 

“How could I not? It’s comforting to be with someone whose presence you actually want. The same can’t be said about you.”

 

  By Naga did her heart start accelerating, but she could not cower under the pressure Frederick was directing towards her. Her younger self would have died from the sheer happiness of Cordelia saying such things for all to hear. But here she was burdened with unwanted attention.

 

Frederick scoffed, “How can someone who can’t support themselves do anything for you?”

 

“She does more than enough for me and without realizing it, mind you,” Cordelia threw at him.

 

  Severa harshly pushed herself away from her mother, tears stinging her eyes and body uncomfortable with the arguing. What no one expected was the girl to go off running, not looking once back at her parents. Owain did the same with Lissa; he could not let his friend go off by herself.

 

  Logically, Lissa knew the farthest they would be able to go was within the house, however the mother in her was stricken with irrational fear. She quickly asked Sumia and Gaius to go after them (why she didn’t go herself, she’d explain later). She motioned at Cordelia to stay seated, mouthing “It’ll be alright.” It showed that Cordelia trusted the blonde, but still there was anxiousness in her stillness.

 

  Gaius nodded, dragging a confused Sumia with him. How quickly did things change? This was a bit too much for a simple child’s birthday party.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“Severa? You okay?” Owain’s tubby fingers wiped away at the girl’s tears.

 

She shook her head, “Daddy did everything wrong. And now mommy’s mad!”

 

  Sumia felt her heart constrict. Hiding behind the doorway was definitely the best idea for now, she doubted the young girl would appreciate an adult budding in on her crying. Though she worried that other may misinterpret the situation in a negative light (she really could not afford having _those_ type of allegations on her head).

 

  Gaius was somewhere downstairs (probably in the kitchen) looking for these very same kids. He would have a better idea on what to do; he’d always been the best at comforting her at her worst times.

 

  She could hear Owain’s quiet “He’s a meanie” and the small laugh Severa offered the boy in response. She could hear Severa’s small answers about her father and mother and about the the party and about a certain special someone being in crutches and not being able to come. The girl had some long sentences in her, and if Owain had any trouble of keeping up he was not showing it.

 

“Auntie Sumia always helps me when Momma and Mommy are being mean, she could help you too,” he proudly said.

 

“I don’t think your aunt is going to want to help me. She doesn’t like my mommy.”

 

  Oh Naga. She had no intention of coming across as disliking Cordelia. It was the opposite of her true feelings (said feelings that agitated her and made her feel pitiful).

 

“I don’t think that’s true! Momma says Auntie Sumia used to make kissy faces at your mom all the time!!!”

 

  Heat rose to her face; she could only cringe at his words. Lissa was on a mission to ruin her, there was no doubt in that thought. If Owain went around saying things like that, honestly how was she going to defend herself. As long as Owain had his mothers nearby, he would have someone to defend his claims.

 

  She did not once make kissy faces at Cordelia! Naga only knows what else Lissa has told Owain, or even the red haired woman herself (she shudders at the thought).

 

“I don't think that's true. My mommy wouldn't be so sad if it were,” Severa trailed off.

 

Owain puffed out his cheeks, “Is too!”

 

“Why do you think so?”

 

  The boy thought to himself. Severa had stopped crying and that was good, but she was still upset. Even though he promised his momma he could keep this a secret, he couldn't help himself.

 

“Auntie has a picture of your mom, and my momma says she's always had it. It’s really important to her!” He stood up from his crutching and bravely stood at his tallest.

 

To his surprise (and Sumia’s too) the girl let out a small laugh. However shy and hesitant it was, Severa seemed lighter through it.

 

“There's a picture of your auntie in mommy’s room. It’s really important to her too,” she said simply, “I’m sorry I didn't mean to laugh at you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

Severa saying that ignited feelings she had hoped been crushed under years of self-pity. Feelings she regretted and often wished gone.

 

But still she hoped in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE SPARE ME D:
> 
> I cannot offer much besides an apology....but do not think I will leave this unfinished! Just please understand that things pop up here and there, and it does not help it's my senior year. But really thank you to those who waited....I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and if not you may castrate me in whatever way you need be. I hope you all had good holidays, and I hope you consider this a gift! To the new year we may go!
> 
> I broke this up. Originally it was a rather long chapter, however, I saw it best to break it up and add to the second half of it. It'll help to bring another update sooner. Honestly, I feel as though I'm always going to revisit this chapter. I feel it unfinished and I feel rather unhappy with the pacing at times. I will revise it over time, and when it happens I will tell you all. Do have patience, but if you see any errors, please do notify me!!!!!! Sometimes my tired eyes don't catch things.


	10. Op. 25, No. 5 ''Wrong Note'' 2/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got no excuses. This is all done and probably littered with small mistakes here and there. I was wondering if anyone would be up to proofread the next chapter? I take longer to update sometimes because of the editing process and how vain I am when it comes to analyzing my own writing :::::(
> 
> I was surprised to find that I only broke the chapter in once spot. There are also some formatting issues that don't seem as obvious at 11 pm :D So I'll have to look back at this soon! If you do spot something, it'd be a lot of help if you commented about it!
> 
> The next chapter is in the works.

 She never allowed herself to hope. Hope was an intangible concept. Couldn't be defined. That’s no good. When her father first had gotten sick, she had hoped and hoped he would get better. But every year as his symptoms worsened, the hope started to lessen.

 

 With age she started to understand that hope was a comforting feeling, but not anything concrete. Hope didn't save her father. Hope didn't return her playing.

 

 But with Cordelia, underneath all the bitterness and anxiety of the situation, there existed that abstract concept of hope. Even if she bit down confessions and disallowed herself from wishful thinking, her heart clung unto the day when Cordelia would embrace her with only love on her mind.

 

 She left the kids to themselves and hurried down the stairs, barely catching her breath by the time she hit the last step. Heartbeat deafening and blush hot on her ears, Gaius found her. Silence passed between them, him quirking an eyebrow, her avoiding eye-contact.

 

“They’re upstairs,” she breathed out.

 

Nodding, he asked, “Well are they coming down?”

 

“They don’t know that I was up there, I don’t think.”

 

“And why’s that? Sumia, are you alright?” That worried look of his unsettled her.

 

 How can he be concerned for her? She, a woman now, still pining after Cordelia. How more pathetic could she be, butterflies jittering her nerves? If he knew, she could only imagine the disappointment.

 

“I think I overheard something that has the potential of both ruining me and saving this mess-”

 

“You’re not a mess. But, hey, honestly, you’re acting like it’s 08’ again and you just discovered the Backstreet boys were still doing concerts. What’s going on?”

 

 She had every right to disclose this information to Gaius, she trusted him enough. But yet this revelation (or whatever it was), she wanted to keep private.

 

“Actually, it’s not really anything. Those stairs just made me a little disoriented,” she finished with a tight smile.

 

 He nodded leaving the manner as is. Insisting to be told in reality would only make Sumia clam up more, something Gaius had picked up on over the years. Whenever Sumia wanted something to be held quiet, she would relentlessly avoid questions. It would get to the point where she would not be seen or heard from for days.

 

 It happened when she lost her “hearing”, it happened when her father passed, it happened when she was rejected by Juilliard. It happened when Cordelia “chose” Frederick. And so, Gaius waits on her. Anything else would push her away; anything else wouldn’t do.

 

“Well, let me go get them, while you wait down here.”

 

“Wait down here?”

 

“Yeah, just wait down here,” Gaius patted her shoulder.

 

 She wanted to follow him, to see if he would hear what she had. But instead obediently she waited at the foot of the stairs, not doing much but staring at the framed pictures that lined the walls. All of Severa. None of Cordelia. None of Frederick. Just Severa, and she wonders if Severa truly understands just how much her mother fights for her.

 

 She heard a scared squeal (probably Severa) and an adventurous shout (definitely Owain), and soon excited giggles followed. Rapid steps and then she was being used as a human shield. Severa clutched at her shirt, and Owain growled from behind her.

 

“Geez, I didn’t mean to scare you guys like that, but I thought you’d both be tougher heroes,” Gaius teased.

 

“You had an advantage!” Severa quipped, and Sumia felt Owain’s exaggerated nodding.

 

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” he sighed, “We have to get back to the party.”

 

Severa froze.

 

“Well except for Severa. She’s going to stay inside with Sumia, while Owain and I go back to the party,” he explained fully.

 

 It probably had not been his original plan. But the way the young girl stiffened at the mention of even returning to that atmosphere, now that could make anyone reconsider. Owain’s confused face was the only indication that he was not entirely sure if he wanted to follow Gaius out the door.

 

“But-but-but, I want to stay here?”

 

“Sorry kid, you’re coming with me.” Gaius dramatically pointed at him, “Your mom said so.”

 

“Why? Is momma here?” Owain played with his hands, avoiding looking at anyone.

 

“Maybe, who knows, but I know your mom wanted to give you something.”

 

“Like-like a candy?”  


Laughing, the older man ruffled his hair, “Maybe. Let’s go find out.”

 

 And so here she was. Left alone with Severa. Severa an almost seven year-old who had her mother's eyes and her father’s brown hair. Severa who had her father’s not quite pale skin but whose mannerisms and just everything else was all Cordelia.

 

 Maybe she had her mother’s infatuation of the violin’s notes over the piano’s. It would explain the violins Stahl had picked up for Frederick. But if those dance classes were any indication, she was sure the girl wanted to be a separate person from both parents’ legacies.

 

“So…what are we going to do?”

 

 Right. She needed a plan. An answer better yet. How is she to maintain Severa content? Owain always had enough energy to play all by himself without requiring much of Sumia. Once or twice he would ask her to be a villain or a rogue knight, but usually he seemed alright with being by himself.  

 

 But Severa was older and they were strangers to each other. She didn’t know much about Severa’s interests or the things she busied herself with. She should have been more attentive when Owain relayed information about his pig-tailed friend.

 

“I honestly have no idea. But if you have anything in mind we could do that?” Sumia nervously played her sleeve ends.

 

“We could...we could…” Severa mumbled.

 

“We can do anything. Anything that you want,” and it was important for Sumia for Severa to understand that she had a choice in this.

 

 She didn’t know why, not at the moment, but it was important. It felt that way at least.

 

“Can we play the piano?”

 

 Anything but that, she wanted to say. “Alright.”

 

“Really? Daddy never plays with me. He doesn’t like me touching his piano…” Severa looked down at her hands.

 

Hesitantly, Severa placed a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder, “Yeah. Well if he has anything to tell you, then he’ll have to answer to me. This is my idea after all.”

 

She lightened up, not brightly, but just enough, “The piano is on the 2nd floor.”

 

“This is Fred--your dad’s home?”

 

 Obviously it was. But there was too much of Cordelia in this house. In the flowers, in the walls, in the kitchen, in Severa. There was too much of Severa too. Dusty toys, a room to herself, a room not touched often, a room Sumia peeked in.

 

“Mhm. We used to live here but mom didn’t want to anymore.”

 

“Do you come here often?

 

“Not really. Daddy isn’t always here, and I get bored by myself.”

 

 The conversation ended there. Severa didn’t explain. She didn’t ask. She was led by small hand to a piano on the second floor. The second floor where a room was once shared, where Severa’s pink room rested, where this piano of Frederick’s hid.

 

“He doesn’t play it anymore. The one he uses is in his studio, I think…” Severa mumbled back at her.

 

They arrived in front of room with a door whose handle was the only old thing in the house. Severa looked at her and through her gaze prompted her to open the door for them. And so she did.

  
  


The piano was grand.

  
  


She might have loved it in another time. Might have spent more time caressing its keys. Might have looked at it longer. But this piano wasn’t her. This piano represented him. This piano was Severa’s request.

 

“Do you play?” She sat at the bench, making sure she left enough room for the almost seven year old to sit besides her.

 

“Nope. But you do.”

 

“I used to. I don’t really anymore.”

 

“Why not?” The girl cocked her head, and Sumia could only smile at the confused face of hers.

 

“Well...it’s a long and complicated story.”

 

Severa took the spot next to her, “I have time.”

 

“I’ll tell you the short version. I can’t hear the notes that I play. I guess you can say I’m scared of playing because of it.”

 

Severa nodded, “How come you can’t hear them?”

 

“I don’t really know,” Sumia sighed to herself.

 

 It’s been years and the reason for it was still….a work in progress for the most part. It could have been the stress. But she liked to think it was whatever outside force telling her she needed to stop for a while. But a while turned to years---and then she didn’t know what to think.

 

“So you aren’t going to play with me?”

 

 Staring at the keys in front of them, the girl didn’t pick up her head. It tugged at her heart, really it did. She had to rectify this somehow; she had to reassure her.

 

“For you….I’d play.”

 

 Sumia blushed at her own awkwardness. Oh Naga...honestly she could see why Owain would believe she’d make “kissy faces” at Cordelia. If this was any indication, she obviously was a nervous person half of the time. She couldn’t even properly comfort Severa.

 

“That sounds like something mom would say,” a giggle followed her words.

 

So maybe she didn’t completely wreck everything.

 

Sumia adjusted her collar, “Well I guess then your mom and I think alike.”

 

“Why do you say that?” Severa was finally letting her small hands rest on the piano.

 

 She smiled at the attempts Severa made to position her hands. She had probably seen enough of her father’s practices, enough music sheets, enough mistakes.

 

“We’d do anything for the people we love. Even the scary stuff.”

 

 The words flowed out naturally as if they’d been waiting for this moment to escape. She hadn’t thought much of them at first, but then that familiar blush came back. The girl next to her more or less knew about Cordelia and her. Or what would have been, could have been. If she had really taken Owain’s ramblings seriously, that is.

 

 Placing her hands over smaller ones, she guided them through an excerpt of a song she hoped would be familiar. Recognition was clear when Severa had begun to hum softly to herself. It was automatic to her still. It was the first piece she had been taught and so she continued just by remembering the notes alone. And perhaps she didn’t hear the entire song through, but at least she had Severa’s humming to replace it. However quiet it might have been, she could still notice the peaks and lows of the song.

 

“...How I wonder what you are.” the girl timidly sang.

 

“This one’s easy to learn. Maybe...your dad could teach you.”

 

Pigtails shook side to side, “He wouldn’t want to.”

 

“I’m sure he would.” What did she mean? She felt the need to defend Frederick, even if his actions prior showed her the reality of his affections for his own daughter.

 

“He got me a violin….He says I wouldn’t like the piano…” small hands ventured off on their own across white keys.

 

“The violin isn’t so bad…” Maybe she could practice the chords a bit, maybe she could teach her a few.

 

A frown appeared, “I don’t really want to play it. I like dancing.”

 

“Does he know that?”

 

“I think so,” a lone C was pressed.

 

“But he still wants you to? To play the violin?” Sumia played her own C note.

 

“Mom says he’s pushy.”

 

C chord, “He’s always been.”

 

“You knew him?” Not quite a C chord, just a key off.

 

She played another C chord, this time showing her hand to Severa, “Mhm.”

 

“Did you like him?” Severa beamed at her when she finally got that C chord.

 

Let’s see if she can get this A chord, “We weren’t really friends.”

 

“Oh...I think my mom told me that before.”

 

 Chord G# feels a little odd, and chord A feels a little heavier than she remembers. Looking over to Severa, she noticed the pouts the girl had when her note combinations didn’t sound “right”. Smiling slightly to herself, Sumia could only feel relieved to know that she was keeping Severa’s mind off things.

 

 The door opened and they were both pulled from their own circle of contentment. Severa stilled and retracted her hands quickly to her lap. She could only feel like protecting the younger girl; this girl didn’t need another worry for the day.

 

 She braced herself for the scolding she was about to get. This wasn’t her home and she had absolutely no permission to play this piano before them. Usually she hated being in the wrong, but Severa looked so happy. For that smile, she could take a some scalding words to her pride.

 

 And so when she turned back to explain herself, she felt the wind knocked out of her.

 

“I...I had a feeling you both would be here. I’m sorry if---I’m sorry for interrupting.”

 

 Red hair now pulled into a bun of sorts, and fair eyes that were looking right at them with some sort of adoration and worry. Cordelia stood, hand still clutching the doorknob, just looking at them.

 

“You both just have been---I got worried, I don’t know why. Gaius told me you were both in the house, and I---” she was struggling to find words, Sumia could tell.

 

The furrow in her brow before she said something, the crinkle in her nose, the tight smile (geez she sounded like creep) all told her that.

 

Cordelia closed the door behind her, though she didn’t move any closer to the two. Perhaps she saw Severa’s curled figure as a sign that she shouldn’t.

 

“I’m glad I came to get you both...Frederick wouldn’t have been with either of you being in here,” she said.

 

With her nervousness gone, Sumia spoke up “This was my idea. I asked Severa to show me the piano; I felt like playing for a bit. So please don’t scold her or anything like that.”

 

“Oh no, did you think-? I’m not going to do that,” Cordelia breathed out, “Severa sounded like she was having fun.”

 

Still said girl wouldn’t pick her head up, “We’re about to cut the cake, and Severa needs to be down there for it.”

 

“But-”

 

“It’s the cake Gaius brought. Most of the guests have left already, so I figured why not,” a few steps were taken.

 

She began to slowly rise off the bench hoping that Severa would follow her lead. Small hands did eventually leave their place clutching at her side. Cordelia welcomed the girl into her arms, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

 

“I’m sorry about how this turned out, but let’s go get some cake,” mother whispered to her daughter.

 

Now she felt like a stranger intruding on a family affair (honestly she should have felt that way before).  

 

“Is Sumia coming with us?”

 

“Of course I’m coming,” Fair eyes met hers, “We should..uh..get going if everyone’s waiting.”

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


 She stood next to Gaius when Severa happily posed with parents and grandparents. It was Frederick that guided her through the first slice. It was Cordelia that gently coached her through the pictures that followed through. And Sumia could only watch.

 

 Owain tugged at his mom when they began to serve the cake to everyone else (“It has to be a corner piece!”). Lissa obliged to his request of getting in line, though Sumia and Gaius had been dragged with them.

 

 The party at this point was only three other families, the grandparents, and well them. She wondered if Frederick felt peeved about having to let everyone else leave for the night. He seemed rather neutral standing beside Cordelia.

 

“What’d you and Severa do?” Gaius asked her.

 

Why was this line so slow? “Huh?”

 

“You were in there for like an hour. I was starting to get bored and Lissa wasn’t being any fun.”  


The blonde turned her head, “I heard my name. You better not be saying anything negative.”

 

“I’m just telling her about the lovely non-existent conversations you and I were having,” he smirked.

 

Lissa sighed, “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Not only was Stahl not here, but Maribelle couldn’t make it.”  


“He didn’t? Why?” Her mind turned anxious.

 

The other woman shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine. He didn’t reply to my messages.”

 

“Who’s Stahl?”

 

 However Lissa, being next in the makeshift line, couldn’t reply to him. And she was too nervous now to make any coherent sentence come out of her. Gaius furrowed his eyebrows, and he waited for her to come out of her sudden silence.

 

 Severa happily gave cake to Gaius and her; Gaius then ruffled her hair and that smile turned into a whine (“Sorry kid, you hair was too perfect I had to”). She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at Severa’s pouting face (“You’re not really sorry are you,” “Not one bit.”)

 

“Sumia, I wanted to thank you,” Naga that got at her heart.

 

She didn’t look up from the plate in her hands, “It’s no problem.”

 

“No, really, I had been trying everything to lighten up her spirits all day,” she could feel that intense stare (the very reason why she couldn’t afford to look up).

 

It’d be her ruin if she did, “She just needed a break, and I am relieved I was of some help.”

 

“You’re too humble.”

 

Her plate nearly fell, “You’re just saying that.”

 

“Sumia, you haven’t changed much when it comes to accepting thank you’s.”

 

 No. She has. Cordelia just wasn’t there to witness it. Cordelia wasn’t there for a lot of stuff. So this small talk and pleasantries were just out of her own politeness. She didn’t really care for what the other had to say (her heart tugged rather painfully).

 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to know if you would need any help cleaning up?” Lissa motioned to the table by them.

 

“No, don’t worry about that, Frederick is going to be taking care of it,” Cordelia looked away from her finally, “You’re actually welcome to leave at this point.”

 

“Are you kicking me out, Mrs. Durer?” Lissa cheekily added the last bit.

 

Cordelia glared a bit, “Not Durer. I never was, I’ll have you know. But I meant that there’s really not anything else to do. I’m about to head home myself with Severa.”

 

“No opening presents?” Lissa quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Severa gets embarrassed with other people around, so we’ll be doing that at home.”

 

 Her cake was left uneaten. Plate forgotten and possibly put in the trash. She got herself ready; though all she had to do was put on her just-in-case sweater on. Lissa struggled to get Owain to cooperate with putting his own on, and not running of to play with Severa in their last minutes together (“But mommy-” “You’ll see her next Wednesday, remember?”) Gaius was running around promoting his bakery with the remaining guests

 

 However, waiting around for Gaius and Lissa left her vulnerable. She could only look on at what was happening around her. Frederick telling some caterers what to do with the leftover echoed throughout the stillness of the night. A breeze kissed her cheeks every now and then, and her hair, she was sure of it, looked a mess. There was openness and yet she felt constricted, restricted by it.

 

 Lissa and a now sleepy Owain walked over to her, “Hey, I think I’m going to go on ahead and get him into his car seat. Do you mind giving me the keys?”

 

“It’s Maribelle’s car, there is no reason for me to mind that,” keys were handed over.

 

The blonde looked hesitant, “Where’s Gaius?”

 

 She looked around; no mop of ginger hair could be seen. Hm.

 

“Maybe in the kitchen?”

 

A sigh of relief(???) was released by Lissa, “Oh, well, I was going to ask him to do something for me.”

 

“I’m guessing then that I’m your only option for this thing,” an uneasy smile graced her lips.

 

“I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

 

 Owain started to tug at his mother’s hand; he grew grumpy the more tired he became. And this idle chatting wasn’t doing much to solve his dilemma.

 

“I don’t think Owain’s sleep can wait any longer, just tell me what you need me to do.”

 

“You might not be happy with what I’m going to ask of you though,” that hesitancy returned.

 

“That doesn’t matter.”

 

 The blonde was chewing on her lip in that tense way she always did. She did it before asking Maribelle to prom, before she announced to everyone she was pregnant, before she asked or said anything quite important to her. Sumia learned that through Lissa’s first timid interactions with the bold Maribelle way back when.

 

“Can you, for my sake, help Cordelia with getting the presents to her car?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Of course.”

 

And perhaps she may have signed herself to her utter destruction (her anxious fall from this semblance of grace she developed over the years). But she found that it didn’t weigh on her as heavily as it would have way back when. When fairer eyes were younger.


End file.
